Inside, Looking Out
by Fabius Maximus
Summary: Ten years later, Kim is returning to the world... what will she find?
1. Default Chapter

Kim Possible: InSide, Looking Out.

Another short one, while I try and defeat writers block on Noir and Senior year.

* * *

"So, Kim…ready?" Kim Possible looked over to the door, the speakers carrying the sound of Marla's voice. Lithely, she got up and smiled.

"Yeah—if I don't exercise, I _feel _the pounds coming on. It must be the food." Marla laughed. A tall, African American woman, she was 45, with a friendly face, with no-nonsense grey eyes.

"You're the only one to say that here-" Marla said. "OK…ready?" Kim nodded. Now they were on the clock and it was time for the procedure.

"Prisoner…stand up." Marla said, voice businesslike. Kim got up and stood in the middle of the room, or cell. No bars on it—just an alloy that could be turned transparent with a touch of a button and cameras that viewed all sections of it at all times. That had bothered Kim for a while.

"Prisoner. Step into the entryway." Kim walked forward as the door opened. This was another new touch, installed five years ago—every cell had an airlock style security entryway. In it was a pile of gear, and Kim walked up to it and waited. Once you were on the clock, you didn't do, or say, anything, unless you were told to. Those were the rules.

"Place your restraints." Kim bent down and got a pair of anklets, placing them around her ankles. A moment later, they clicked and a red light turned green, indicating that they were secure, the 12 inch chain connecting them strong enough to tow a battleship. Then, she clicked on the bracelets around her wrists. They were also connected to each other, along with another chain connecting the leg and arm chains to each other. When finished, Kim was slightly bent over, hands barely six inches apart, and legs only a little better off. She couldn't do more than shuffle forward, unable to even stand to her full height. Completely helpless…as the designers had intended. Not that they took any risks—the restraints could _also_ shock her into unconsciousness.

The outer door opened.

"Prisoner Secured." Marla said, "Walk forward." Kim did as she was told and the two turned and walked down main street of the Federal Super Maximum Security prison. Pretty much empty, Kim reflected. They didn't waste this sort of thing on your run of the mill bad guy. Her "next door" neighbor, was a certain former President Hussein, since Iraq had decided not to worry themselves with the political dangers of an execution. A few more blocks down was a serial killer who was waiting for his final appeal to be declined, and just next to him a Serbian General with a taste for ethnic cleansing. No women, which had meant they'd had to find some female guards when Kim had become part of the little community.

Ten minutes later of shuffling, Kim found herself infront of the entryway to the "outside" exercise yard. The repeated the process in reverse, and found herself alone in the yard, "Outside" only in the sense that the top was transparent, and vents brought in some of the air from outside.

It was, however, the closest she'd come to outside in the last ten years. Once separated by the airlock, and no longer in potential danger, Marla could revert to being human. That was another intent of the system, Kim had been told—if the guards did not fear for their own safety, some of the pressures that might lead to abuse were removed.

"So, Kim…looking forward to it?" Kim started dribbling the basketball, trying to keep her spotless record of successful shots intact.

"It?" Marla snorted.

"Parole, Kim, where you get to say good bye to the upscale and posh surroundings of Ft. Leavenworth, and return home." At 'home', Kim missed a shot.

"It's…"

"Don't you say 'no big' to me, Girl." Marla said. "Remember? I've been a guard here—hell, I was _transferred _here because of you." She paused, "Shall we run the tapes of you crying yourself to sleep for the first 300 days?"

"Yeah…but I got better—It's been what, 3600 days?"

"Pretty close."

"And you got here for…" Kim shook her head.

"I don't feel like this was wrong, Marla, you know that. I assaulted a federal officer, and let a war criminal out of jail." She paused, "I would do it again."

"Yeah, well girl, do you regret hurting those cops?" Kim paused.

"You know I do."

"OK, let your aunt Marla tell you something—when the parole board asks you questions, a little birdie told me they _ain't_ going to say: "Would you do it again." They'll say: "do you regret hurting those cops." You say yes." Kim nodded.

"Yes Aunt Marla." She said.

"Good. Plenty of people deserve to be in here for ever, not you— you paid your dues, and part of parole is to get people who deserve another chance out so we can save the space for people who should never be let out." She looked at the clock. "Best get to exercising—we only have 45 minutes today."

"OK." Kim said, but she missed more than one shot.

* * *

_"Very well."__ The judge said. Kim was sitting in the place of the defendant—or guilty party, in the bright orange jumpsuit. Her parents, Ron's parents, her family was there. But not Ron. Not surprisingly—it was a bit much to expect someone in ICU to make it in._

_"You have pled guilty. Do you do this of your own free will?"_

_"Yes, your honor." The judge nodded. _

_"Kimberly Ann Possible. I understand the reasoning that led you to undertake your actions. However, this court cannot condone behavior that leads to assaults on federal officers. To do so would to be break a bond of trust between the courts and the police, one that could not be easily repaired." He paused "And your actions in releasing a known source of biological weapons could have endangered not simply the SEAL team who was forced to retrieve him, but literally millions, had they not been successful. Nonetheless, this court has received a number of petitions, including some from those individuals you injured, requesting clemency. I regret to say, that I cannot fully grant them, due to minimum sentencing guidelines." He looked at her, "Your lawyer has agreed to have the sentencing now, are you ready?"_

_"Yes, Your Honor." Kim said, while part of her gibbered that she was still three months from 17. She could hear her mother behind her, sniffling into her Kleenex, the sound of a sudden cough from the back of the room. _

_"Very well, Having pled Guilty, I sentence you to the minimum term of 21 years, credited for time currently served. The Federal Department of Corrections will determine what location you will serve your term in. Kim swayed. She would be nearly forty when she left. Then the bailiff was coming over to her, motioning to the other side of the court room where she would go to be processed.

* * *

_

She shook her head.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Kim paused. "But…"

"But things have changed?" She nodded.

"This isn't as bad—hell, it's nowhere _near_ as bad as some places." Marla said. "No worrying about knives in the dark or getting chosen to be someone's "special" friend." She looked through the transparent glass at Kim, "But not being able to walk out a door is a pretty big downside. Having to chain yourself up for a walk is a pretty big downside."

"You haven't been bad…"

"Thanks, but that's not the point." She paused, "you've _grown up_, in here." She shrugged, "And you have the BA degree to prove it." Kim laughed.

"For all the good it's going to do. I don't think many places hire convicts."

"You might be surprised." Marla said, "don't fall on your sword." She looked at the watch.

"We'd better go-- It wouldn't do to be late for your own hearing." Then, all business again.

"Prisoner. Step back to the center of the room..."

TBC.


	2. II

Kim sat in the room, waiting as the four members of the parole board went over paperwork and other material. Her prison record, recommendations from the warden, outside requests (quite a number of those), and other material lay over the table.

"So…we are agreed?" One man said, as the others nodded. "Very well, Kimberly Ann Possible!"

"Yes sir?" Kim said.

"We have read the records of your incarceration. It is the unanimous recommendation of this board that you be paroled. The governor has also granted his approval." There was a gasp behind her, her mother, Kim knew. The room seemed to sway as she thought what those words meant. Controlling herself, Kim continued to listen.

"You understand, Miss Possible, that you are on parole— and you must continue to maintain the standards set to you by the Federal Department of Corrections and your assigned parole officer. Failure to do so would result in your being returned to prison."

"I understand." Kim quietly said.

"I know you do." He paused, "Miss Possible. The circumstances regarding your incarceration were unfortunate…and you have worked as hard as possible to continue your life, taking advantage of every opportunity granted you. I believe you will do well." Kim nodded. "If there is nothing else… Miss Possible, I believe you have a family to greet…and leave with." Kim nodded, feeling a strange roaring in her ears. Suddenly, there were cheers behind her, and she was assailed by her brothers, father, and mother.

"OH God, Kimmie-cub…" Her dad said as he held her. "We've missed you so much…" Her mother, handing on to the other side, laughed through her tears.

"You should believe it—he made us keep your room just like it was." Kim hugged them both back—the first long contact she'd had with her parents in over ten years.

"Hey Sis." Jim said, fighting a catch in his voice, and Tim grinned, with his wife standing back slightly. The two swept Kim into a hug when her parents relinquished her for a moment.

_They're bigger than me._ Kim thought, at the rare family visits, people sat down, and she hadn't really noticed…but Jim and Tim both easily topped her by a head, and Jim had a natty beard, while his brother… his brother had a wife who was expecting their first child.

"Doing good, Kimberly." Marla said. She stuck her hand out. "Good job." Kim hesitated. Her parents looked confused…but you didn't touch a guard. That was the rule. "You're not an inmate, anymore, Kim." Marla said, and Kim, hesitating took her hand, and was suddenly pulled into a bear hug from the older woman. "Now, you write me…you hear—but don't come back." Kim laughed.

"I'll write, Marla…and don't worry…I won't."

* * *

Then she was being bundled outside, and stopped dead, just before she got out the door. Kim looked around, back, and outside…took a deep breath. Her family pulled back, just a little…as Kim walked outside.

"We have a dinner booked." Her mother said, "Unless you'd prefer to rest."

"Trust me mom…after prison food…" Kim said, "I would love to eat." She paused, but maybe I should stop at home first to freshen up." She looked around.

"Where's Ron?" Her mother shook her head in real regret. "He's stuck in Japan…something strange came up. He said it was a Bueno Nacho thing, but I…" She paused, and continued, "Anyway, he's booked the very next flight out. If we'd known when you were getting out precisely, we could have told him in time for him to be hear." Kim nodded. Ron, next to her family, had been her most common visitor… even when he'd moved away from Middleton, he'd made certain to make it back. Whatever had come up had to have been major.

"Miss Possible?" A clerk said, as Kim turned. "I'm sorry," The young man said, "Here's your appointment with your Parole officer—he'll be visiting you tomorrow." Kim nodded. They could afford to do that, she thought. Parolees, including her, had a chip implanted. Right now, the Federal Justice system knew where she was to within a foot and a second…which made keeping track of parolees somewhat easier. If anything, Kim wondered what her parole officer would talk to her about—she already had the basics…she had to be in her parents house between 11PM and 8AM, had to clear any movements outside of Middleton with her parole officer, and could not enter any gun shop, pornography shop or liquor store… those were the main things, she thought.

* * *

A few hours later, Kim and her family were heading back to Middleton on a supersonic Wade had arranged, by a different root, and one that avoided the news reporters who had apparently just found out that Kim Possible was no longer in jail.

Leaning against the cool hull of the plane, Kim listened to her parents and brothers (and Sister in law), talk about the place they'd booked, and what they were going to do. Kim didn't say much. Looking out at the landscape passing under the plane, she raised one hand to touch the window.

"What is it Kimmie?" Her mother asked, and Kim looked up at her. _When had mom gotten gray in her hair? She sounds just like she did that day…so how can she look any older?_

"It's… Just…." Kim paused. She was shocked, realizing that over the years she'd gotten used to being alone so much that having so many people around her was a little overwhelming. "I'm just getting used to being out." Kim said quietly. "And going home."

_But can it be home? You haven't been there for ten years.

* * *

_

Next. Meetings and transformations.


	3. III

_Meetings and transformations._

_

* * *

_

_Pesterfield and Robert Teague:_

This is actually a bit different from some of my other stories--lets just say that if anything, Kim recieved every possible benefit of the doubt. You'll learn more as we continue.

_

* * *

_

Once at home, Kim snuck up to her room as everyone else was getting ready to head out to eat…and realized they hadn't been kidding about not changing it. It looked just the same as it had the morning she'd left for the court. Her cuddlebuddy was on the bed, between the pillows, and it looked like it had been made up…every day. Kim's eyes burned at what that implied.

Her clothes were also the same…which presented some problems. The room might have stayed the same, but Kim hadn't.

"Mom?" Kim asked, coming back down.

"Yes Kimmie?" Her mother said, with a strange look that Kim knew—a look that said: "don't let this be a dream".

"I'm…. the clothes are too small." She said in a rush. Not much, but well, they might look odd. In any case, she hadn't seen anyone wearing clothes that exposed their belly button on the way over.

"Oh!" Her mother said and laughed, "I should have thought of that—Jonathon got so bent out of shape whenever anyone talked about changing the room." She paused, "You know your father." Kim nodded. "How about if I take you to Club Banana… so we can get something right before dinner?" Kim quickly nodded. A quick word to the others, and she and her mother were off in a new car, heading for the mall.

"Mall please." Her mother said, and the car beeped.

"Autopilot: On."

"What?" Kim said, "Is this something dad was working on?"

"This? Oh, no, it's a new model of car." Her mother said, "Lots of people are getting them." Kim looked at the console fascinated. OK, so she'd been in a robot car before…but that was a one of a kind prototype…and now people were just driving them?

She shook her head and looked out at the street. At least that seemed normal.

* * *

Monkey Fist dodged back desperately. He'd expected to _Win_ this time, but something was wrong. He was quickly enlightened.

"I've waited _ten years_ for this, and you had to try and destroy Tokyo right now, and I. Am. Not. Happy." Ron Stoppable said as he kicked the villain into a wall, through the wall, and out of the other side of the building. Striding forward, mystic energy rolling off of him, he frowned. "You can stay down, and go to jail, or get up…in which case you can go to the hospital, first. Then Jail. Or a morgue, depending on how upset I am."

"Jail…Jail!" Monkey Fist said, staying down. Ron nodded, and didn't even wait, turning around, he started back to the street, calling out over his shoulder.

"Remember, Monty—if I have to turn around and get you I will not be very happy."

No sound from behind him. Ron nodded, the flexible nanomorph armor conforming to his body, combining with years of physical conditioning. There was a horde of press and police outside. He frowned.

"Wade?" Ron said, "Tell her to meet me on the roof—I don't have time for this dog and pony show."

"Understood, Ron…we'll get you there." Ron nodded and leaped, from a standing start, up and over the horde outside, the suit shimmering and going to stealth mode, barely visible, even to the hood that had folded over his head. Nanomorph and flesh muscles combined, as he swarmed up the sheer wall, hands adhering to glass and steel…and finally, lifting his hand and firing a smart line to attach to the whispering stealth craft hovering above the roof. Moments later, he was on board, and the craft was rising on its underjets, external wings transforming from VTOL mode to a design better suited to a supersonic flight.

Ron flipped into the mission compartment, where the various gear was stowed, ranging from non-lethal equipment to some most definitely lethal gear. He'd never had to use it, beyond one horrible day, but it paid to be equipped. There were people out there who would not scruple at mass murder, and Ron did not intend to ever let them succeed. Walking past the High Threat Armor Suit, looking like supertech plate mail, Ron entered the quarters compartment, comfortable seats and a wet bar/kitchenette, along with Rufus.

"Hey Rufus!" Ron said. The mole rat woke up and grinned at him. Rufus was getting older, but still was the same old friend Ron had had for so many years.

"We are on course, Ron-San." A voice came from the door to the pilot's compartment. Ron turned and nodded.

"Thanks, Yori." He said, touching a spot on his armor, waiting as it flowed off of him into a convenient carrying form. Yori didn't look away, appreciatively gazing at the toned body revealed. To work correctly, nanomorph armor couldn't have anything between it and the skin…which Yori thought, had certain benefits.

Of course she and Ron were no longer lovers…but still, it was a pleasant sight, and Ron's time in Japan had cured him of the odd American obsession with simple nudity. As she was thinking, Ron finished pulling on some clothes, the smart fabric pulling tight in just the right way. He grinned.

"Where was this when I could never get good fitting clothes in school?" Yori laughed.

"Oh, Ron-san, that's not even a factor—where was this technology when every woman on the planet had to spend weeks finding a proper fitting bra?" The first use of smart clothing, in fact, had _been_ for a bra…

"That's not a problem guys have to face." Ron paused, "Well, not since we stopped Lady Equality, last month." He shuddered. "I never thought someone's genetic experiments could get more creepy than DNAmy's." his partial smile left his face, "At least they're creepy and not genocidal though." Yori nodded at that, some of the humor leaving the room. It was hard to forget that, given who they were going to see…and why.

Rufus ran over to him with a smart pad, and Ron took it, frowning.

"No, no, maybe, no." He said.

"And the no's?" Yori asked.

"They want to equalize the menu at all the Bueno Nacho's again." Ron sighed, "The reason we can be number one in the market is because people can eat local food at their Bueno Nacho, and the chefs can exercise their creativity. If we change that, we're just another fast food joint." He paused, "And subsidizing food in the inner city and third world may be bad marketing, but I don't give a damn." He paused and shook his head. "People need to eat."

"And the maybe?"

"Mm… a promotion with some other food chains." Ron paused, "I'll have to see what the legal beagles think about it."

"Lawyers, bleh." Rufus said.

"Now little buddy, what did I say about that? It's not their fault they sold their souls." Yori grinned at that.

"Are you nervous?"

"Scared as hell." Ron said, as he racked the Lotus blade on the wall. "Which is stupid, because I wasn't the one in prison for the last ten years." He sighed and sat down. "And I can't even get pissed at the law."

"She did it for you."

"I know. She should have let me die." Ron quietly said. "I was in the command center, remember?" Yori nodded, "Do you know that for a few minutes, when we thought he'd gotten away…" Ron paused, "They unlocked the codes." Yori blinked.

"What?"

"The nuclear codes." Ron shook his head, "Everyone was terrified, Yori—they _knew_ what he was capable of, they'd seen the samples…and if he got away…" He paused, "Well, there was one way to solve that—he couldn't fly and he couldn't drive, and that meant that if you destroyed the city he was in… no problem." Ron looked out the window. "Then the news came back that the SEAL's had gotten him, and everyone cheered, except for the ones who were cheering and crying. Including the president. I don't even _want_ to know what that feeling was like when he was getting ready to give the orders."

"And you…"

"I know why Kim did it, Yori, I love her. God I love her." Yori nodded at that. Ron had visited her every time he could, including some times when the letter of the law should not have permitted it…but the warden of the prison had exercised his discretion.

"But I also know, now, that she had to go to prison for this—nobody had any _choice_ in the matter." He sighed, "And I hope that she can forgive me for being the source of this."

Yori looked at Ron, remembering the half wrecked young man who had fled to Japan, chased by nothing other than his memories and guilt. He hadn't even wanted to come to the school, until Yori had convinced him to. That was when they'd become companions and…much more, for a time.

Now, Ron was one of the strongest warriors and best men Yori had ever known…and one who was also one of the richest people on earth.

_How much of this drive was because you needed to feel worthy of what Kim did, Ron?

* * *

_

_Middleton._

Kim found herself once again, struck by the odd nervousness as she faced the hundreds of people at the mall. They were moving around, getting in her space, and not minding that she was in their space. Except for guards, and the very controlled meetings with her family, Kim had largely been alone for ten years—and even when she wasn't, the rules on contact were draconian… for the five accidental brushes with people she'd had in the first minute, Kim would have lost every privilege for a month.

_You're not in prison anymore. You're not in prison anymore._ She whispered in her mind.

But it wasn't only that. The mall was…different. Not dramatically so—all the cars had wheels, kids still hung out by the food court, there was a theater…but now there were holographic ads floating in the open air, and strange flying objects that darted back and forth. Kim blinked at them. She raised a hand to point.

"Mom..what ar-" She broke off as the one she pointed out fluttered down in a whisper of fans.

"Welcome to Middleton Mall!" It said in an androgynous voice. "May I help you?" Kim blinked.

"What are you?" She finally asked.

"I am your Middleton Mall guide and assistant. You appear confused…are you lost, and need assistance in finding your party, or are you in need of medical or police assistance? I will route you to emergency services if that is so. If not, please enjoy your Middleton Mall shopping experience-"

"Privacy, please." Kim's mother said, and the object darted off to another shopper.

"What was _that?_"

"Hospitality and security cam." Her mother said, "Middleton Mall is one of the first places to get them—they all connect to an expert AI in the mall basement, and serve as everything from watchdogs to salesmen."

"They're all watching us?"

"Well the AI is…the picture files are erased at the end of every week, though." Her mom said, "I didn't like it myself, but I have to admit, it's made shopping easier…and cut down on some vandalism." Kim looked around, a frown on her face. She'd been used to continual observation in prison…but she hadn't expected it to follow her outside. Her mom didn't seem bothered by it that much, but still…

"I don't like it." Kim said quietly.

"Neither did your father, or the twins." Her mother paused, "And I know your point, Kimmie… it cuts down on vandalism, but is that a big achievement if it comes with 24 hour observation?" She shook her head, "But of course it did stop crimes and so most people were for it, and the law is _very_ clear on what they can use it for."

"Like that's stopped anyone?"

"Oh, this law did…if you violate someone else's privacy, they don't sue you…they just gain the right to go through _your_ private records… stones and glass houses…" Kim grinned at the image.

"Here we are." Her mother said, looking at the Club Banana sign. Kim blinked at the manikins moving back and forth, at the holodisplays, and the oddly empty main floor. Walking in, she looked around.

"Can I help…" Kim turned to the teenager, and nodded, "I need…some clothes." She paused, "where are they?"

"Well, you can step into the fitting rooms…" Suddenly, a light dawned, "Wait a minute!" She said, and dove back into the store.

"Boss! Kim's here!"

_She knew me? Is it Monique-_Then Kim's thoughts broke off as Zita came walking through the door.

"Hey, Kim!" Zita said, "I'd heard you'd come back, but didn't expect to see you so soon!"

"_Zita_" Kim asked. Zita looked taller, maybe a little different from when Kim had last seen her, but not much, although her hair was longer than it had been.

"Zita?" Kim said, "But you worked at that…"

"Theater? Not for six years now, I put myself through college at Club Banana…and now I run the store." She paused, "better than that, I bought the Franchise for the mall."

"Neat…" Kim paused, "But don't you need clothes?"

"Oh, that's the _old_ Club Banana." Zita said. "Are you staying here?"

"I have to—parole says Middleton."

"Oh." Zita said, then changed the subject, "Monique lives in New York right now—she's finishing up her medical school." Kim nodded, she remembered a letter from Monique about how she'd been accepted to med school, but somehow, Monique and Club Banana were just partnered in her mind. Then Zita was pushing Kim into a cubical, handing her an odd looking sheath.

"Here, put this on." She said, and handed her a pair of pants. "and this."

"But what if I want a dress?"

Zita grinned, "just watch." She said. Kim put both on, and stood in the cubical, looking confused. A screen appeared in the wall, with a selection of clothes.

"Try it?"

"But I haven't given my size!" Kim said. Zita didn't say anything, but Kim finally touched a dress that looked nice. Abruptly, the clothes on her, tightened up slightly, the pants turned into a dress, and a flicker of laser light traced her body.

"Body size confirmed. Holographic simulation engaged. Kim blinked as the gear on her changed, and a hologram adhered to it, forming into an image of the dress…and an image that felt like the dress as the underlying "fabric" imitated it.

"It feels…like the dress." Kim said.

"Yep." Zita commented, "And it keeps your size in memory—unless you gain or lose a lot of weight, you don't even have to try other clothes on.

"So where's the dress?"

"You want it?"

"Oh yeah…" Kim said,

"It's being made now." Zita paused, "This is pretty expensive stuff—you won't find this at Smarty Mart or a lot of other places, but we computer cut the clothes to size, and they are ready…" A subdued sound was heard and a door opened as the dress was moved out on a rack. "quickly."

"Expensive…mom?" Kim asked. Kim's mother smiled, "Don't worry, Kimmie…" Kim put it on and gasped, she'd never felt anything so good!

"Like it?"

"Oh yeah." Zita grinned,

"It's on the house, Kim…welcome back."

"Thanks…" Kim said quietly.

"Kimmie…we're going to be late…"

"I-"

"Don't worry." Zita said, "I have a new worker to break in tonight…and I'll see you later." She paused, "give me a call—Felix and I would love to have you over to eat!"

"Felix?"

"Great game players stick together, and after I cured him of his first person shooter obsession, it was only proper that I marry him." Zita said, grinning. She gave Kim another hug.

"Don't be a stranger." Zita said quietly. "We've missed you." Kim nodded, her voice unaccountably weak.

As they left the mall, the vehicle once again in autopilot. Kim's mom looked at her daughter.

"Penny for your thoughts." Kim smiled, but shook her head.

"I couldn't even say what I'm thinking mom…because I don't know myself."

_To be continued._


	4. IV

Dinner, at least was normal. No robots or holographic waiters, just an ordinary dinner. Kim ate sparingly, enjoying the food.

"Not hungry, Kimmie cub?" Her father asked. Kim smiled.

"You get 45 minutes a day, or sometimes an hour and a half, and there was only so much running in place could do." She shrugged, "I put thirty pounds on the first year and spent a lot of time getting it off." She looked down, "Not that I got it all off."

"You look great, sis." Tim said. Jim looked annoyed.

"They didn't let you exercise?" Kim nodded.

"They did…but there were certain rules—in my part of the jail, inmates couldn't be put together, and so you had to allow enough time for everyone to do their exercise, although "President" Hussein spent most of his time bitching."

"At you?"

"At me, the air, the world…" Kim said. "Others were nicer…we didn't get to talk much."

"Nicer?"

"Well, among the guards, Marla was pretty nice, but you gotta understand, mom, dad, that they'd get _fired_ if they broke the rules—the year before I was, er…there, a guard got too friendly with a prisoner and was killed." She shrugged, "So we spent most of the time alone." Kim looked around and realized that she'd brought the mood down, and grinned. "So Tim…blown up the college yet?" Her younger brother grinned back while everyone else busily took the excuse to break the mood.

"Nope, but not for lack of trying—I had a _great_ idea for an anti-matter reactor, but it had some bugs…."

"Tim," Her mother said, "Mutating that nice doctor into a giant green hulk was not a 'bug'"

"You're right, mom," he said, "I should have called it a bodybuilding feature." Kim laughed at the image that was conjured.

The dinner continued until Jim and Tim had to head out, Jim back to the lab, Tim to home so his wife could get to bed. Kim hugged them both, and then looked at the watch, and back at her parents.

"It wouldn't do to miss curfew on my first day out." She said, pointing to the clock. "We'd better get home." Her parents nodded, faces darkening at the reminder that Kim might be out of prison—but was in no sense fully free.

* * *

On the way home, Kim found herself…tired. It was odd, she'd spent ten years in a room, and now after one day out, she was tired. She mentioned that to her mom.

"Nerves, Kimmie." Her mother said. "You probably didn't sleep much last night, did you?"

"No…" Kim said, smiling. "That's probably it…it's going to feel odd being back in my own bed, after all this…time." Her father suddenly felt the need to pull out his handkerchief and blow into it, commenting on the severe pollen they'd been having. Both Kim and her mother accepted the lie. Back home, Kim walked in the door, blinking at the boxes of Club Banana gear by it. A note on the packages read:

_Kim, _

_I figured you needed more clothes than the dress, so here you are. Welcome back. We've all missed you. _

_Zita._

Then _Kim_ had to make excuses about the pollen.

* * *

Inside, Kim and her mother unpacked the gear. Kim looked around. The twins room was a guest room now… empty of the weird beeping that had forwarned her of disaster. Her own room.

"Wow…you really didn't throw anything away." She said, holding her cheerleader uniform.

"No…" Her mother said, "I hope it…doesn't hurt." Kim shook her head.

"Not really…right now I'm not…" She laughed, "I'm completely random." She sighed, "And exhausted…and here I went days without sleep before." Her mother smiled at her. "You go to sleep then…we can talk more tomorrow." Kim nodded.

Later, tossing and turning in bed, Kim opened her eyes. She couldn't go to sleep. She was exhausted and she couldn't go to sleep. For a moment, she looked around the darkened room. Going to the window, Kim opened it as far as it would go, and breathed in the air, the light breeze gently moving the curtain. She checked and made certain every other door in the room was open, and locks were disengaged.

Kim's eyes were closed before she hit the pillows, and she slept like a baby.

* * *

Later, _much_ later, Kim woke up and saw that the night outside was just being touched by the predawn gray. For a moment, she wondered why she was awake, then heard voices downstairs.

"…let her sleep…"

"…certain?"

"…of" The voice trailed off, but suddenly Kim recognized the voice. She _recognized _that voice!

* * *

_"Hey KP."__ Ron said, looking at her. The twenty year old watched his friend get settled behind the plexiglass window. Ron leaned forward-_

_"Visitor, remain in your seat." The guard said. Ron leaned back. Break the rules, no visit. _

_"Hey Ron… I thought I…" Kim blinked a few times, "I thought I told you I didn't want to see you."_

_"Yeah, you did." Ron shrugged, "Kim, I know I went wonky there for a while, vanishing for those months…"_

_"And now you live in __Japan__ part of the time."_

_"Not for long now." Ron said, "Bueno Nacho needs me on site, since they still haven't fixed all the PR damage Drakken did." He paused, "Which doesn't explain why you don't want to see me."_

_"It's stupid… I did this, but you have better things to do." _

_"Uh-huh. To quote a wise man, bullhocky." Ron said, his eyes locking with Kim's. "You **saved my life**__Kimberly Ann Possible. That counts for a lot. It certainly counts for me being able to make it to these forty five minute meetings…" Ron paused, "Now, you **could** refuse to come out of your cell, and sit there when they announce me, but I'll just sit here and get hungry, without you to distract me…and think of the sorrow!" Kim burst out in a half hearted laugh, but still a laugh. She still couldn't meet his eyes. _

_"Kim." Ron said quietly and she had to look at him. "This is hard. I don't know how hard, because I can walk out of here, you can't. But we're your friends, your family…don't push us away." _

_"I…" Kim closed her eyes. "OK…" Ron gave a slight shake and then smiled._

_"Well," he said, "now that that's over, your brothers destroyed the chemistry lab…_again_, and forced moi to stop the jell-o blob they unleashed on down town…" Ron continued talking to her, and Kim didn't hear much of his words, just listening to his voice, storing it up for when this weekly meeting was over.

* * *

_

Kim threw her robe and slippers on and padded down the stairway, pausing at the edge of the living room. The lights were on, and as she peeked in, she saw her parents, Yori…and _Ron._

"She's very tired." Her mother said,.

"Yeah."

"Not that tired Ron Stoppable." Kim said, trying to put anger in her voice, but it was hard to do when it was breaking. Ron got up from the couch and turned to face Kim, walking over to her. He was taller than she was now, as well, and Kim could see, more now that they were so close, how he'd filled out, the pantherlike grace of his movements.

"Sorry I'm late, Kim." Ron said. "I really wanted to meet you earlier…but well…" He paused, "Things came up."

"It's ok…" Kim said, still praying that she wasn't about to wake up to dawn roll call, find out that this was just a particularly long and detailed dream. She lifted one hand, fingers out, questing, but unwilling to actually put the vision to the test, when Ron gently took her hand in his, the warmth of his skin banishing doubt.

"I've…" Ron coughed, "I've missed you."

_I'm touching him. For the first time in ten years, I'm touching Ron._ Kim thought.

"I've…" She paused, tried to take again, but her voice was coming out in a breaking squeak. "I've… missed you so much, Ron… I…" And then abruptly she was in his arms, crying into his shoulder, as Ron leaned his body into hers, taking her in a protective embrace, just holding on to her.

"It's OK, KP," He murmured into her red hair, one hand stroking the crimson strands. "I'm here now. We're all here now." After several minutes, Kim and Ron were looking at each other, and Kim giggled through the tears.

"Is everyone bigger than me now?"

"I am not." Yori offered. Kim looked over at the Asian woman and grinned.

"Hi Yori… how are you."

"I am well, Possible-San, and I see that you are well." She smiled, "At a risk of repeating what many people have no doubt said, welcome back."

"Thanks." Kim said, and found herself on the couch next to Ron… in his arms. It was odd how normal that felt. "How long are you going to be here, Ron?" Kim asked. Ron grinned,

"For a while." He paused, "Defined as, however long I want."

"But don't you, I mean, Bueno Nacho?" Ron chuckled.

"Owning a company has some benefits—the HQ moves where the boss moves." He paused, "In any case, I can virtu-commute."

"Virt-wha?" Kim paused, "Is this something else I've missed?" Ron grinned. "Something Zita and I came up with, with Wade's help—remember Everlot?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, those little headseats weren't just good for games, once we got the bugs worked out, but they work great for long distance teleconferencing." He shrugged, "Didn't make much money on it, since it had to be tested, but it's what got Zita her franchise, and saves me a lot of time." Kim shook her head.

"I need a world book." She said. Ron laughed.

"Don't worry—more stuff has stayed the same than has changed."

"What about Drakken and Shego?" Kim asked. "I wasn't allowed to read about many of my…well, you know, enemies."

"They're doing pretty well." Ron said, "Got out of the villain business, retired, got married, had kids." He shrugged, "practically the model of a traditional family if you miss the explosions and occasional killer robots."

"Wow." Kim said, blinking. "I don't…" She shook her head.

"It sounds weird." She continued, "But I almost though everything would freeze, and start up when I got out—but it seems like I've stayed the same, and everyone else has moved." Her mother nodded.

"I can see why, Kim. But at least you have a degree."

"Why math?" Ron asked.

"Well, I hate history, and I wanted something that could keep me busy…so math." She shrugged "Do you know how long doing calculus equations by hand can take?"

"From school… I can guess." Ron said. "So, what's the plan for today?"

"I have a meeting with my parole officer—here." She shrugged, "I hope he's a nice guy." Ron smiled,

"I think he might be."

"Then…" Kim paused, "I don't know. "

"How about spend the day with me?" Ron asked, "We can catch up on history, pester people and maybe catch a movie."

"But Yori." Kim said, and suddenly, _Why__ Is Yori with him? Are they?_

"I will finish preparations to move the headquarters, Ron-San." Ron grinned.

"Great! It's set, than." He looked at Kim. "How about I order out for an early breakfast, and we can wait for your parole officer?" Kim nodded. Spending the next few hours curled up next to Ron….

Yes. The future would take care of itself.

To be continued:


	5. V

By the time 9 rolled around, Kim and Ron had been talking for hours. Ron told her things he'd done…with some odd absences, Kim noticed. He had kept active in the "save the world" business, but she noticed that he wasn't overly talkative about it. But the poise and strength in his movements… Kim had started to see it after the prom, but now, they were far more apparent.

There was a knock on the door.

"Oh, my Parole agent." Kim said, and then as the door opened, blinked.

"Rabbi Katz?"

"Hello Kimberly." Ron looked at the two and nodded.

"I'll be outside." He said. As the door closed, Kim looked at Katz.

"_You're _my parole agent?"

"Things change." The Rabbi said, and paused, "Kimberly… when you were sentenced, parole was, to put it bluntly, a way to get people out of jail, to free up new cells. They usually ended up back inside, making things worse. Parole agents were over worked, under paid, and no matter how hard they tried…well, the system had problems." Kim quirked her eyes at him.

"But today." The Rabbi continued, "we have more tools…and the government has realized that you can be penny wise and pound foolish—the locator beacon you have on as a condition of your parole does most of the policing end of the work—I don't need to call you at odd hours to verify your location" He looked over at her, "And also, It's harder to make parole now—only those who we feel will make a seriousattempt are offered this sort of parole, rather than more limited imprisonment."

"So you're… different then an older parole officer?" Kim asked, Katz nodded, "I report to a superior who _is_ a law enforcement officer, but I am not—I'm a councilor, not a jail keeper…and believe me, you may need a councilor, more than you think." Kim avoided his gaze.

"I…think I understand. Things have changed…except for me. I mean I'm older, but still…" She shook her head. Katz nodded.

"I understand, partially. But there is another factor. For the last ten years, your life has been bounded by rules—rules which you had no choice but to follow. When to get up, when to shower, when to walk, when to talk…all of these things were decided for you." Katz looked at her seriously, "You may find yourself less well prepared for independence then you thought…and if so, if you need to talk, I can keep some things in confidence."

"What?"

"Anything not relating to a plan to break the law or your parole." He paused, "You could of course request to speak to me as a spiritual advisor, in which case nothing could be repeated, but I would have to cease being your parole officer in that case."

"Oh." Kim said.

"So, what are you going to be doing?" Rabbi Katz said.

"I don't know—I mean, get a job, eventually, but-" He raised his hand.

"I was referring to today, and this week." He paused, "Don't try to take too many steps at once."

"Hit the town with Ron." Kim said, "Try and figure out where I am…"

"That's a good start." Katz said. He looked at her intently. "Kimberly. Your case is a hard one—I could not see you doing anything else…just as I could not see the authorities doing anything other than what they did, unless they wanted to utterly break faith with the people they were sworn to. How do you feel about it?"

"When I broke Jamison out…" Kim paused, "There was this kid, well I mean he was older than me, but you know what I mean." Katz nodded. "He had his gun out and he was holding it on us, but he was so _certain_ something else was going on, that I couldn't be doing this… well, I got the drop on him, and broke his arm." Kim closed her eyes in memory for a moment. "We were running down the access tunnel and I looked back and he was looking at me, and he looked so _betrayed_."

"But if you hadn't, Ron would have died." Katz continued, "the poisoning he'd received admitted a cure only a genius like Jamison could create."

"And he kept his side of the bargain." Kim quietly said. "And all I had to do was let a man who worshipped Adolph Hitler and everything he stood for, _and_ had the skill make targeted bioweapons walk out the door."

"And you would do it again." Kim suddenly couldn't meet Katz's eyes.

"Marla told me not to say that," She muttered,

"I know—I was in communication with her, and this is a category of things that go no further."

"Ron…" Kim paused, "Rabbi, Ron was-is my love…I mean, we'd just been to the prom, we'd just started, and all of a sudden that damned mutant Gill had hit him with that slop and he was breaking out in cancers _all over_, and nobody, not mom, not all the specialists could do a thing." She kept her eyes down on the ground, "I knew he might kill millions..tens of millions. I _knew_ because he was one of the guys that GJ told us to never, ever under any circumstances, mess with. Hell, Drakken and Shego were scared of him." She looked up and met Katz's eyes, "But none of those millions were as real to me as Ron… I couldn't let him go. No matter what the risk."

"to others."

"Yes. To others." Katz nodded.

"As I said, a hard case, Kimberly—I know that in some places your situation is used as an example of a dilemma that offers no good answer." He laughed softly, "In fact, in some schools they discus that event after they read _The Cold Equations_, for a look at no win situations."

"But because of that, our relationship is a bit different. You're not a drug dealer who must fight to avoid temptation, or a drug addict who has to avoid previous haunts. You need to take some time and get used to this new world you're in—because yes, in a real way, you are a time traveler, and culture shock has probably already occurred."

"Oh yes." Kim said.

"Well, then…consider this our first meeting… and I believe you have some time with Ron planned." Katz smiled, "Oh, by the way, I had forgotten to mention—given that you might occasionally find yourself trapped late at night, and rather than have you have to run home, Ron's house is also keyed as a 24 hour "Safe" zone, so you could, if you desired, spend the night there." Getting up, he put his hand to the door. "Good Luck, Kimberly Ann."

* * *

She nodded, as Rabbi Katz left and Ron came strolling in. Kim looked over at Ron.

"Did you do that?"

"Me? Well, I may have…suggested it." Ron said. He grinned, "So, Bueno Nacho first than maybe a movie later…" He paused, "Or maybe Bueno Nacho and a walk in the park first?"

"Park." Kim said, without hesitation. _Open fields, walking with no doors or walls to get in the way…_ "Park, definitely."

"We'll make a day of it." Ron said.

Bueno Nacho was the same, Kim noticed, even though there were larger buildings around it now.

"It's…"

"Hey, you own the company, you get some perks." Ron said, "And if my perk is wanting to keep our Bueno Nacho the way it was… well that's my business." He paused, and gave a Ron grin, "But it's not all the same—the pay's better….so it doesn't take _quite_ as long to pay for a Club Banana jacket." Kim couldn't help bursting out into laughter.

"And now, we should have the VP of quality control do his thing." Ron grinned, "Rufus?"

"Uh-huh!" The rat immediately attacked his naco with intent ot devour and moments later was lying in an empty plate.

"So, Rufus?"

"Uh-huh!" Rufus said, before dropping off into a post gorging snooze. Ron grinned, and lifted his meal.

"So, Kim, ready?"

"Oh yes." Kim said, and ate her first Bueno Nacho meal in ten years slowly, savoring the taste.

* * *

After that, the two wandered on down to the park. It was a Saturday, so there were kids and adults enjoying the day, running about, and otherwise having fun. Kim looked around at the park, and smiled.

"It hasn't changed." She said. Ron nodded, "Not much… I like to come here, as well."

"Ron…" Kim said as they walked past a playground full of screaming children, "What did you do… I mean, when you weren't visiting me?" Ron looked at her, and smiled.

"Well, I ended up with Bueno Nacho, remember, and believe me, I had to learn _fast_—I don't have a college degree, because there just wasn't time to go through the whole process."

"And, the save the world business?" Kim asked. She'd heard a little about that. Ron looked down for a moment.

"After you well… I was pretty messed up, Kim." He shrugged, "For a while I looked for missions because if I was pounding on someone else, I didn't feel so bad, but Wade stopped booking me…so I went to Japan for a while, got my head turned around."

"With Yori?"

"She's probably my best friend in the world." Ron said.

"Only a friend?" Kim said, a slight question in her voice.

"Today, yeah." Ron replied.

_But maybe not yesterday._ Kim thought. She wasn't angry… which surprised her, but then she thought about it and understood why. Ron should not have turned himself into some monk, just waiting for her to return. That would have been terrible. Ron was still talking.

"So today, we handle some of the stuff you and I used to do, but not as much—fewer bad guys around."

"Well." Kim said, "I think that would break my parole, so I guess I'll just have to do something else." She didn't notice Ron's sudden relaxation.

The rest of the time in the park, they spent talking about everything under the sun, Kim drinking in the ability to walk as far as she wanted, in any direction. For lunch, they walked to another restaurant down the road, and then walked back. As the day wore on, Kim found herself sitting on a bench, as Ron went off to get some ice cream. The kids were laughing as they played on a jungle gym, and Kim smiled, watching them.

"Oh, pardon me." Another woman said, as she sat down. Kim nodded and moved slightly, to let the woman and her baby get comfortable, while a pair of five year olds went screaming into the playground.

"It's ok…" Kim said. She was about Kim's age, with long brown hair, and her voice… Kim suddenly blinked, and looked over at her. She was a little heavier, more voluptuous than anyone Kim had remembered, but suddenly, she was looking at Kim and Kim realized.

_"Bonnie?_" Kim gasped.

"Kim?" Bonnie said, "You- I mean I'd heard you were going to be paroled, but you're back already? That's wonderful—no wonder Ron came back into town so quickly."

"Bonnie…you're…"

"Married?" Bonnie asked, "Yeah, it happens to the best of us, Kim." Abruptly her child started making loud, complaining noises. "Whups—hang on a moment, Kim," She said, opening her blouse and settling her baby in. "I'm trying to get Dana used to eating on a schedule—both for her sake and mine." Kim blinked. Bonnie, the Bonnie that she'd spent the last ten years imagining in a cheerleaders outfit, panicking at the slightest hint of grossness….

Bonnie was sitting next to her breastfeeding her baby, while two other kids were playing on the jungle gym. Not only that, but while in good shape, Kim could see Bonnie had put on a few pounds. Probably three kids didn't allow for much in the way of four hour workouts every day.

"Who?" Kim asked.

"Brick Flagg" Bonnie Flagg replied. "We got married just after high school." She laughed, "Everyone thought it was because he'd gotten me pregnant…boy were they surprised. He got a job with his dad, helped put me through college, and then inherited the car lot from his dad…" She smiled, "Not that he does all the boring math—that's my job. Brick deals with the people, I deal with the figures." She looked over to the screaming mass of children on the jungle gym, "He's better with people, although he's rubbed off on me a bit."

"And you have three kids?"

"Yeah—the first two were a surprise, Dana was deliberate. We're a bit more settled now, so it was time for another baby to slobber all over mommy." With that she looked down, "Yes you do, and you love it, and I'll make certain to have pictures to show when you're 16!" The infant scrunched her eyes up and waved a fist at that comment. Bonnie laughed, "You're right, I would never do that. By that time, I'll be old and slow and you could outrun me." Kim was shaking her head.

"I…Brick. I thought you two had broken up?"

"So had I, but we got back together. Brick… he's kind. Not always the brightest." _That_ was a bit of Bonnie snark, Kim thought, "But he's kind, and loves his kids, and is always willing to take them to the park…that…counts for a lot, as I get older." She shrugged, "He's held me when I was such a complete _bitch _to the world that nobody in their right mind would want to be near me, so I guess he does love me." She laughed, "In fact, we're meeting him here." She looked over to the side, and nodded, "Along with Ron, I see." There was Ron, and Brick walking together talking a mile a minute, which was slightly slowed when the two five year old's (boy and girl), with identical screams of _Daddee_ Charged Brick with intent to overbear and in a few moments were crawling on him like he was a walking jungle gym.

"Hi Ron." Bonnie said, waving.

"Hi Bonnie—so is Dana ready for chores yet?"

"She already has one—mobile alarm clock that goes off every hour at night." Brick said. "I offered to pay her to not do the chore, but she's a hard worker." Ron laughed, as Bonnie finished feeding her child and buttoned up her blouse. Ron handed Kim her sno-cone.

"So you work at the car lot?" Kim asked Bonnie.

"Nah, that's night work." Bonnie said. "I also teach PE at Middleton High…would you believe Barkin is still there and looks just like he ever did?"

"What about Cafeteria Lady?" Bonnie shuddered, "Yes." She said, "It's obviously a plot by Stoppable to make people appreciate Bueno Nacho."

"Hmph." Ron said, "I have better plots than that, thank you very much… Cafeteria Lady is a way to make certain the next generation is strong…what does not kill you and all that." Bonnie laughed. Brick looked over at his wife.

"Hun—we're gonna have to head out if we're going to make it to Grand-ma's in time for dinner."

"Oh, right…" Bonnie said, in some regret. "Kim… Ron has my number and everything—when you get settled in, lets see if we can get the old team together, go out and have lunch…" She giggled, "Or try and squeeze ourselves into our old outfits and _really_ traumatize the kids at the highschool."

"By how we look, or the fact that we're better than they are?" Kim asked.

"Both." Bonnie said, laughing.

* * *

Later, Kim and Ron were walking back to his house—in a different part of town, Kim realized, while she was thinking about Bonnie.

"Bonnie's married…I'd never imagined that."

"You should have heard the gossip." Ron nodded, "I wasn't around much, but people were convinced that the only reason she'd married him was because she was pregnant—and then no kid for two years, which left egg on their faces." He paused, "Brick coaches the kids soccer team."

"Better than me?"

"Don't know." Ron said, "They don't win as much as they could, but Brick likes to make certain they have fun."

"Better than me." Kim answered herself. _Brick and Bonnie.__ Married. Brick and Bonnie. Married with three children._ Her brain was having trouble with the concept.

"You know, I'm going to get as tired of saying this as you are of hearing it." Kim said, "But every five minutes, something else is different—it's not like the world ended, or blew up…that would be easier." She paused, looking up (up? That's another difference), at Ron, "But it's just a little difference—not so big to be, 'ok, that's different move on', but just enough to keep you blinking—like if someone rearranged the furniture every time you back was turned."

"Is it bad?"

"No…just a lot to get used to." She paused, "What about the other team members?"

"Tara's off on the West Coast, and you are not going to believe this."

"What? She's a cheerleader."

"Nope."

"Police officer?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"United States Marine Corps fighter pilot. You can call her captain."

"Get _out!_" Kim said, "_Tara__?"_ Ron laughed,

"Yes, and she saved my bacon—on one of our missions, the bad guys had a missile set up—I was called in by GJ, but they located me, after I'd painted the missiles for Tara and her squadron to blow into the next century."

"What happened?"

"She had a F-35, and she actually flew in, _lowered_ the landing gear, so I could grab it, took off and flew back to the carrier." He grinned, "And then got very upset because I'd dinged her baby."

"Wow." Kim said, as they turned the corner. Then, she got a look at Ron's home.

"_Wow._" She said, blinking.

_To be continued._


	6. VI

Ron's "house" wasn't a house…it was a mansion. Three stories, a large, fenced yard, trees… in fact, it looked bigger than some of the mansions of the rich people Kim had helped.

"This is your _house?_" She asked. Ron grinned, "Well, one of them." He shrugged, "Bueno Nacho is a Fortune 500 company now… so the cost of the house is actually pretty low, compared to most company operating costs."

"It comes out of your salary?"

"Don't get one." Ron answered, "I get 'paid' in terms of stock payments—if the company makes money, I make money…if it doesn't, I don't." Kim blinked. She shouldn't…but she had to ask.

"So…how much did you make last year?" Ron looked at her and sighed.

"Don't worry KP…I've had a little more practice, so no 'the Ron'." He paused, "But…well, last year I made about 750 million." He shrugged, "Not that I keep it—money in the bank is just sitting there—I have people invest it, look for little start ups, that sort of thing." He grinned, "You should _see_ our microloan program."

"Microloan?" Kim asked.

"Ten thousand dollars or less to various people in the Third World," Ron started with animation. "They pay it back ten years after they start making some profit. No interest." Kim thought, then blinked.

"But, Ron… that means you wouldn't make any money off the deal, so why call them loans?"

"Well, we will… you get businesses started, people start having money, they start buying stuff—which means we do make money…and in any case, people are more serious about loans, rather than gifts."

"Oh." Kim said, _Ron, thinking about this?_ He smiled at her.

"Yeah, I know, KP…I think the same thing myself. I kinda got dropped in the deep end." They walked up the drive way, and Ron looked over at Kim.

"So ready for the penny tour?" Kim nodded, and Ron opened the door for her. Stepping in, she looked at the opening atrium, with plants and cool colors, but with just enough muss that it looked "lived in" and not a hotel.

"I spend a lot of time here, and the folks do when they're in Middleton." Ron said, "So we make certain the maid and cleaning bots know what to leave alone." He pointed out various features, including a room that seemed to have every game system in the world in it, and a few that might be out of the world. Ron looked regretful.

"I have every game that comes out…" He said, "And half of them are still in the store wrappers…I just don't have time to play them anymore." He paused, "And with everyone else being just as busy, like Felix and Zita…well, games are best if there's someone else in the room." He looked at Kim with that one. Kim caught the hint.

"Maybe I'll be able to slay some zombies with you tonight." Ron grinned,

"I'd like that." With that, he showed her the kitchen, in which he would whip up snacks when the urge took him. His rooms were, well, messy in a Ron way. Kim smiled. That hadn't changed, even if everything else had.

* * *

Then, they headed to the lower basement level. Ron looked at her.

"You know I've been doing the fight the bad guy thing, right?" Kim nodded.

"Well, there's some benefit to being rich." He said as they came out the door. Kim blinked. Where the upper levels were a home, albeit a wonderful one, this was more of a combat command center or a bunker. On one wall, huge readouts gave the date, and a flood of data in short hand—Kim realized that it was a distillation of news programs.

"How…" She asked, Ron followed her gaze and nodded.

"It's just a data-miner program that Wade cooked up. It looks for odd coincidences, things like that… if it finds the right patterns it flags it for me or Yori." He shrugged, "Truth of the matter is, everyone has them these days, and the bad guys know it, so they're a lot more careful than Dr. D ever was." He closed the door and Kim realized that the air was flowing out as the door closed.

"Positive pressure system." Ron added, "Just in case, everything down here is built to the same specs NORAD and STRATCOM are—it won't stop a nuke, or an orbital KE strike, but anything less probably wouldn't do much damage." They walked through the corridor, as Ron pointed out the small emergency apartments, and in one room, the armory. A single suitcase sat on a table, Ron pointing to it.

"Nanomorph armor--, like the old Centurion suit, only it comes off when you want it too." Kim grinned at that memory, as Ron continued, "It'll stop anything in the pistol range and is pretty good with most rifles, enhances strength, lets me fire climbing lines or flick-knives, stuff like that." Kim found her gaze taken by other devices—some of them obviously deadly. Ron looked over at one gun Kim was staring at.

"Gauss anti-material rifle." He said, "Fires a tungsten or DP slug at well…very high velocity." He shrugged, "It can't take out a tank, but just about anything else…"

"Have you used it?" Ron paused,

"A few times, KP… some of the bad guys… yeah. I have." He said, and invited no further comment. Kim didn't press him as she looked at something that looked like a suit of plate mail.

"That…well I've never been able to really use it." Ron said, "The High Threat Armor Suit was Wade's baby… you know him." Kim nodded. "Well, it can stop a tank, blow up a ship…fly…."

"Sounds cool."

"Yeah, but it takes ten minutes to put on and activate…and every time, _every time_ I really needed it, things were moving too fast to put it on, so I had to do it the old fashioned way." He shook his head affectionately. "I also have some search and rescue robots, but they're stored for now."

"Not warbots?" Kim said, grinning.

"As if I need help there." Ron said, and then changed his look, "And in any case, I don't want something with a gun, that isn't connected to a human brain, no matter how safe Wade says it is." Kim saw something else.

"That's the…" She reached out her hand, to have it slapped back.

"Don't touch that!" Ron snapped, eyes on the blade that rested in its holder. He took a deep breath.

"Sorry, KP." He said a moment later, "But the Lotus blade… really only tolerates one person right now." He paused, "And it's dangerous for anyone else to touch it."

"Ron…" Kim said, "It's just a magic sword…isn't it?" She remembered the Lotus blade, but suddenly Ron's face looked drawn and tired as he looked at the blade.

"No…not exactly." Ron quietly said, "Oh, it looks like a sword in its neutral form but that's not what it is…the sword is simply the sign of what it is." Kim blinked, confused.

"What is it?"

"The spirit—the concept, of conflict and change." Ron said, "Like a sword, it exists to create change, to end—and begin conflict." He paused, "It's not a…sentient thing, not in the sense you would understand, which is why it's so….dangerous. It makes conflict—but whether it's a scalpel or butcher knife is dependent on who wields it…" Ron shrugged, "In the hands of Ghandi, it would probably look like and act like something entirely different, but not many people have that commitment to non-violence. For anyone else…it's very different."

"And you?" Ron looked at Kim, at the sword.

"I've worked really hard to control it….or not let it control me." He frowned slightly, "The first time I used it after you were…sent to prison, I couldn't stop thinking that nothing could keep me from tearing those walls down and getting you… I managed to control that, but then I was also thinking that there was one simple way to make certain these bad guys never troubled us again." He shook his head. "If you lose focus using it, for one second, it starts using you."

"Why…" Kim asked. Ron looked at her.

"I'm its keeper—for now. Too many people were very interested in this blade…and it hasn't always been a Lotus Blade.

"What?"

"It was last known as the Spear of Longinus." Ron said, "At least before it came to Japan, and took the form of the blade." He smiled, "Thank God that Hitler never found that out... Supposedly it's been other things, but a lot o the monastery's records are incomplete… and I think someone did some creative editing in any case."

"If it's so dangerous…" Kim said.

"I know—but I've needed it once or twice, not that I've _wanted_ it." Ron said, "Most of the time, it stays here, or I do some Kata's with it… But until Sensei can find another place to hide it, it stays with me." Ron left, and Kim followed him, noticing that Ron gave a tiny sigh as the hatch closed off the glimmering sword from their view.

* * *

"Next stop—Dojo." Kim looked at the room and blinked at it's very Spartan look—it was a _large_ room, as big as the gym at the high school.

"I know, it looks basic, but when you fire up the holograms and synthodrones."

_"Synthodrones?"_ Kim asked, having an Erik flashback. Ron laughed.

"Don't worry—Dr. D never mentioned one little problem they have—let them walk past a microwave and they completely depattern. Every military on the world has a way to melt them now." He pointed back to the armory, "But they let me practice in ways that I wouldn't want to do to people, and would be too expensive with robots—the Synthodrones just run into the gutter and get reformed." The last room held the VTOL, a smooth stealthy ship that was all curves.

"Baby's nice—Wade didn't design her, but he put together the team that did." Ron chuckled, "GJ uses the downgraded variants, but this baby can do it all." He pointed to the center, "It pretty much duplicates the armory contents, has a sleeping chamber, active stealth, weapons, the whole bit."

"Wow." Kim said, she'd never had this before.

"Ron-San!" Yori called from the hatch.

"Hey Yori." Ron said to her, as she trotted up. Kim looked at Yori—it seemed like age was making half the school look older, but if anything, Yori and Ron looked younger and tougher than they had.

Well, unless you looked too closely at Ron and Yori's eyes—there was experience in their eyes, and sorrow, and they had a certain way of looking at each other.

_Are they still together?_ Kim shook her head at that, Ron would never have lied to her about that. Still, thinking back ten years, there was much of the ease of Ron and her old relationship in the way Yori and Ron stood next to each other.

_Maybe she shoul- _There was a sudden beep from the wall, which turned into Wade's face.

"Hey Kim!" Wade said,

"Hey Wade," Kim replied, "What's the Sitch?"

"Not good." Wade answered, "Ron, we have a situation."

"This'd better be good." Ron muttered,

"Not good—very, very bad." Wade paused, "You know the Neo-Stalinist group in Russia?"

"You know I do, and I don't think anyone enjoyed the meeting." Ron said, "What are they doing right now?"

"They have a Liquified Natural Gas tanker off the coast of California and have made threats to blow it up unless their demands are met, those de-" Ron waved his hand in annoyance.

"Don't bother Wade. They wouldn't be intelligent enough to ask for something that someone even half sane might consider giving them for a single second. It's nukes, bio's or they want us to declare war on the Russian Federation."

"Pretty much all of the above." Wade paused, "Nobody else is in position, and the Navy'll have to sink the ship if it gets too close to the coast…"

"Hostages?"

"Ten crewmen and officers, all in the bridge area."

"Good. Weapons?"

"Light firearms only, maybe a few old SAM's"

"We're on it." Ron said, "Yori, no rest for the wicked—get the _Wraith_ ready."

"Hai, Ron-San… and your high threat armor?"

"No… they'll be throwing enough poorly aimed firepower down around those LNG tanks, I'd prefer not to add to it."

"and the blade?"

"No. If it comes to that, the Navy can just blow the ship after we recover the hostages." Ron paused, and frowned. "Well…we'll have it on board, just in case." He turned to Kim.

"Sorry, KP…I guess we'll have to cancel the rest of the tour until I get back."

"I'm coming with you." Ron looked at her and shook his head.

"Sorry, no."

"_What?_"

"Parole, remember… do you really want to break it before you've been out for two days?"

"But…I can help…" Kim said.

"I know, Kim." Ron quietly said, "And you will. Because I will _never_ be the cause of you losing your freedom like that again." He paused, "Don't worry—this is something Yori and I have done before…if you want, you can watch the news reports upstairs."

"I-"

"Ron…you need to go."

"I hear you Wade." Ron held Kim, suddenly hugging her. Into her ear, he whispered, "Don't worry, KP… I'll be back soon." Kim didn't know what to say. Moments later, she was in the observation deck, watching as the _Wraith _lifted off into the darkening sky. Moments later, it seemed to shimmer and vanish. Kim staggered back and fell into a chair. Ron was leaving…and he hadn't asked for her help.

Not only that, he didn't _need_ her help. Blindly, Kim headed upstairs, for the living room and the TV…he had told her she could watch the news…she would.

_Please God, Ron, be okay._

TBC.


	7. VIa

The Wraith cut through the dark sky, invisible to radar and visual sensors alike. Neither one was piloting it, the autopilot doing just fine. In the mission bay, Ron's clothes were already racked and he was standing, letting the liquid metal of the suit flow over his body. Moments later it glimmered on him like quick silver, than shimmered and turned into a dark grey, it's neutral form. It also ceased being as form fitting as the nanites massed over vital points, ready to turn diamond hard at the slightest threat. Yori was putting her armor on, the same form fitting nanomorph's pouring over her body. Both had seen each other nude enough that the sight was well known—and more importantly, both had other things on their mind.

"Neo-Stalinists, Ron-san" Yori said, Ron nodded.

"Yep—dumb as all get out." _And they make up for that with brutality._ Both thought. Smart bad guys would recognize when an operation was blown and the operative word was to get out—they would also recognize that dead hostages were worse than useless.

Nobody had ever accused this group of being smart.

"Wade, any update on their demands?"

"No… right now they're on page 27 of how Lenin got it wrong." Wade said with a sigh.

"Ouch, sorry about that Wade, we owe you." Ron commented. Listening to incoherent ramblings was not his idea of a good way to spend a day. "Anything on the tactical front?" Now Wade was grinning.

"Yeah, I've tapped into their radio coms. We shouldn't interfere with them all of course." Ron nodded. Information was always good, but jamming radios was generally a good way to put them in the "shoot the hostages" mode.

"And…" Wade continued, "The ships interfering with their communications, and over the past ten minutes there have been com black outs of up to 3 minutes—and they just send someone to check the look outs."

"They think it is merely the ship." Yori commented, "Wade-san…"

"already on it." Wade commented, "when you want it, I can blank them out _exactly_ the same way." Ron groaned. That was good news, but _Three minutes_….

"Is that three minutes before they send someone to check?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded.

"So we stick with one minute at the most." He paused, "Call up the visuals."

"This is off the Coast Guard UAV's." Wade commented. "We've got the hostages in the bridge area."

"Are you certain?" Yori asked.

"Yep—all the terrorists have coms, none of the hostages." Now Ron really groaned.

"What?"

"Yes, I know it makes our job easier, but could they be any more _stupid?_" Ron asked. "Let me guess, some of the sentry's are out of visual or verbal range of anyone else."

"Why, yes, Ron." Wade said, "There are ten in the bridge area with the hostages, and ten walking around the ship." Ron shook his head at the hologram. _None of the_ rovers were in visual contact, or even running a buddy system. He nodded.

"OK, we take out the ones by the hostages, first. If the rest want to just blow up a ship with themselves on it, or wait until the _navy_ blows it up, fine."

"The ship is very valuable. Ron-san," Yori pointed out, "and the damage to the environment."

"I know—but once we get the hostages off, they'll be in a pretty bad bargaining position, and even they'll know it." Ron grinned, "and besides, what passes for brains in this outfit is up in the 'safe' bridge, with the hostages." Yori nodded. Then the two were bending over the holoplan of the ship, deciding on their exact points of entry.

* * *

Sergai Rostov was walking his patrol zone, cursing the metal that kept his coms from working reliably. Not that it was a problem. They'd warned the Coast Guard that should anything approach closer than five miles by radar, a hostage would be killed. Once they were close in to Long Beach, it wouldn't matter—the U.S. would _never_ risk a city for Russia…

From above, Ron and Yori stepped out into empty air. No parachutes or jet backs adorned their forms—but the nanomorph suits formed nearly invisible wings out of spiderwebs of carbon fiber.

Sergai didn't even have a chance to look up as a hand slapped over his face, another injecting a neural paralytic. In seconds, not a single voluntary muscle obeyed his commands. Ron let him down, gently, and then moved on to his next position. Yori had taken out the sentry on the other side of the bridge—he didn't need to ask. If Yori hadn't said anything, it had been done.

Against the complex background of the ship, Ron was no longer using active stealth—the glimmering of the active stealth was good in combat, but it also might attract someone's attention the way the neutral gray the suit was currently set to wouldn't. The scene was like day, the passive image intensification gear doing its job, as the sound intensifiers and verbal sensor cues kept him up on non-visual information. Ten years of practice and missions had gone into his skill, and his knowledge of his equipment. Anyone just putting on the suit would have been utterly overwhelmed by sensory overload, to say nothing of controlling it. It required not simply technical skill, but control—which was why the SEALs and other elite units always trained _without_ the suits as much as they did _with._

Not to mention the potential danger of forgetting that the nanomorph muscles could let you punch through steel, to say nothing of an organic body. First job done, Ron swarmed down the sheer side of the tanker, heading for the bridge level. Never be normal had been his motto.

And in operations like this, never using what most people would think of as the only route was a very good idea.

Half way down, Ron heard a single click on his comes. He clicked back, the integral radio obeying his command. Even if the bad guy's couldn't read what you were saying (and in the day of quantum encryption, decrypting _anything_ in time to do something about it was hard), a lot of chatter gave far too much away.

* * *

There was the bridge now, lit up, destroying the inhabitants night vision—rendering blind to what was going on outside.

"Sergai? Sergai!" A pause, "This damned ship… wait a minute and go find him."

Ron moved closer, ignoring the door in favor of the bridge windows. A single filament, nearly invisible even before you counted the stealth gave him a look into the Bridge. Hostages…yes. Including several injured. Men with guns, yes. Men with guns who were walking, and thus all taller than the kneeling or prone hostages, yes. That was an unexpected bounty. All the hatches were dogged shut.

The only thing _that_ meant is that no help was going to make it into save them.

Quietly, Ron produced a small disk…and than making one more click, threw it at the bridge window.

The disk, moving at nearly one hundred miles an hour, struck the window, and faster than the eye could see formed a millimeter thick layer over the window—before blowing inward, all in less than a hundredth of a second. Another bridge window did exactly the same thing, and now they were diving in, armor gone to glimmering quicksilver.

Even as Ron dove in, a spray of small pellets went before him and Yori, exploding in a blaze of light that would blind for minutes—a blaze, in fact, calculated at just below the point of permanent damage to the eyes. He had other tools, but without knowing the injuries of the hostages, Ron wasn't going to risk gas or concussion.

He didn't need to. Screaming terrorists raised their guns, to have them ripped out of their hands, as Ron slamned into them, disarming them while injecting them with a paralytic. Yori was doing the same.

_"Wraith_," Ron said, "Pick up."

The last terrorist was down and out, and Yori was looking at the two unconscious hostages.

"Concussion and gunshot wound." The Japanese woman said professionally. "We need to get her to a hospital." Ron nodded, as Yori continued spraying fast-bandage into the shoulder wound. The woman had bled a great deal, but there was no time right now, as the Wraith came to hover at the edge of the ship, gun turrets seeking targets.

"_Wraith, _designate active hostiles, fire if fired on." Ron said. He didn't like combat AI's, but the crafts AI was very dumb by the standards, which meant that although you had to direct it, it wasn't likely to go nuts on you. Moments later, the crowd of hostages was heading into the craft's cargo hold.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I think you for flying Ron Airlines." Ron said as he came aboard, "Please find your seats while we attend to the injured." Most of them were fine, save for terror, but the shot woman was a different matter, and Ron and Yori loaded her into a Medevac pod, which would keep her stable until they got to a real doctor.

"We're clear." Yori said. Ron nodded.

"Give me their frequencies." Yori touched a button.

"To my good friends on the tanker. You now have no hostages, no leaders, because _I_ have the antidote, and a bunch of U.S. navy ships approaching you. If you blow that ship up, the only thing you will do is make some insurance adjustors very unhappy. You will also die." Ron paused, "If you gather on the foredeck, and pile your weapons away from you, you will merely be sent to jail, likely for the rest of your life. Live or die, it's your choice. I could care less." Ron cut off the replies.

"Navy's closing." Wade said. "They have bomb disposal drones ready." Ron nodded, once the men were off, he bet they were hoping to score some EOD specialists…but the nations of the world had learned from painful example, and the only thing that would go on that ship would be expensive robots, now that the hostages were off.

* * *

"They're vectoring us to UCI medical center." Yori said. "Ron, you have a call."

"I'll take it." Ron said, then blinked, "Hello Admiral."

_"You were pretty convincing, Stoppable—we're getting offers of surrender right now…I figure they think they'll be able to rant at the court case." _Ron's lips quirked. It wasn't _illegal_ to cover a terrorist trial, but most news agencies kept to the facts…and few were willing to give them a platform for their rants. He figured they were going to be pretty disappointed.

"Thanks, Admiral."

_"Good Work, Stoppable." _There was a pause, "_but the SEALs say they could have done it without the fancy equipment."_ Ron laughed at that.

"They're just jealous that I don't have to go through congress."

"_We all are." _

"But yeah, they're right." Ron said. Of course, they both knew the other reason he had been called in. He was a freelancer, not affiliated (officially), with the U.S. government, which eliminated all the diplomatic problems of staging a rescue against Russian Nationals, on a South African flagged ship, with a crew from at least a dozen nations. He was certain right now some people in the State Department and White House were burning offerings to the Patron Saint of Passing the Buck.

"Thanks Admiral." Ron said, "But I'm going to be kinda busy over the next few weeks…"

"_Connecting with Kimberly Ann again?"_ Ron blinked.

"How did…"

"_Ron, you should know that the dossier on you is updated…pretty promptly."_

"I feel loved,"

"_I thought you would. Again, Good job."_ Ron nodded, and signed off.

"Speaking of Kim." Ron said, "Lets hurry back."

* * *

Kim had been watching the news, eyes dry with dread. Ron seemed skilled and confident, but her mind kept replaying images of him losing his pants and getting captured. Could he…

Then the news reporter was announcing that the remaining terrorists were surrendering with the hostages being transported to an area hospital by their unidentified rescuers, possibly affiliated with Global Justice. A quick shot of the _Wraith _landing and then Kim shot bolt upright as medics ran over, getting a form in a high tech gurney, but then two quicksilver armored forms appeared, one male one female, and she sighed in relief. Ron was Ok…he was _OK!_"

"At least twenty heavily armed terrorists had taken the ship." The talking head on the screen said, before showing a montage of bombings and savage attacks, all tied to the same group. Kim blinked at the one image of a Russian police officer and his family, tied up and gunned down in their own living room. Drakken had _never_ been like this.

Ron wasn't fighting Drakken any more, and if anything, he'd been _casual _about this. She would have been a hindrance. Kim realized, and felt Rufus run up the couch, watching the show with her.

_Because Rufus could only get hurt._ She realized, _He had to be protected, and that meant left here._

_Like me. _

_…_

_Like Me. _

Bonnie and Zita had started her thinking like this, Kim realized. Married, with children, grown far beyond the days of competing over things like Spirit Sticks… to the point where they really didn't even mention it. Tara…the airhead who had needed Kim to protect her was now an F-35 pilot. In fact…she looked over at some pictures and found one, with Tara, hair short, in a flight suit, kneeling in front of a fighter.

"To Ron from VMFA-112, Love, Tara." The picture read.

And Ron… he was…

Wealthy, skilled, brave… Kim looked around the room. He had done so much for her…but was it right?

Could she ever get up to his speed? She shook her head.

Probably not. For one thing, Parole and crime fighting didn't mix…and for another…. Kim sighed. Even if she could start today, she didn't know if she had the ability anymore.

_Or is it just that you were only in love with him when you were the main player? Are you afraid of not being his equal…or jealous of it? _Kim clinched her eyes shut, but found them opening again as the News started playing a retrospective of one of GJ's elite teams, although unlike the old days, they didn't identify Ron or Yori. Clip after clip, drug dealers, terrorists… ethnic cleansing. Kim realized that there were very few mad scientists in the bunch—oh a couple, like a plot by some nutcase called "Lady Equality," but most of them were the type of people that GJ had told Kim Possible, in no uncertain terms, to steer clear of.

Kim kept watching the TV, as the night wore on, Rufus sleeping on the back of the couch.

* * *

Later, there was the whisper of jets as the _Wraith_ landed and the elevator moved it to the underground hanger. Ron and Yori quickly cleaned up, setting the servos to restock and refuel the craft.

"Hungry?" Ron asked Yori, who shook her head, raven hair haloing her face.

"No, Ron-san…"

"Yori…" Ron said, "why the sudden formality?" Yori paused.

"Because it may be better for Kim-san." She said. Ron shook his head.

"No, it'll just confuse the heck out of her." He gave Yori a kiss on the cheek, "Because that's not the way my closest friend talks to me." Yori blinked, and than nodded.

"Ok, Ron…" She continued, "But I am not hungry—not so soon before breakfast…"

"Well, I'd better find Kim." Ron commented, "I hated running out like that."

"I believe she would understand." Upstairs, Ron heard the TV still going and moved quietly. In the main room, there was Kim, curled up on the couch, asleep, shivering in the cool air from the open window. Rufus looked over at Ron, his bright eyes concerned.

"She just fell asleep, little buddy." Ron said quietly, as Yori waited. Kim was _deeply _asleep, Yori realized, a Kleenex clutched in one hand.

Ron gently scooped her up and held her, her head nestled against his shoulder. Kim sighed in her sleep, but didn't otherwise stir. Yori opened the door to a guest room as Ron lay Kim down on the bed, brushing her forehead with his lips in a light kiss.

"'night, Kim." Ron said. before covering her with a blanket. Looking up, he frowned slightly and then nodded, going to a window and cracking it. Yori nodded and went to bed. Ron paused, on the way to his room and then headed to the office. He wanted quality time with Kim tomorrow, so he'd spend just a few minutes making certain nothing in his IN box was about to leap out and attack.

TBC.


	8. VII

Kim woke up slowly, wondering where she was. She had been in front of the TV, watching the news about Ron…but now she was in a guest room, the large bed she was in a little cloud of heaven, the birds chirping outside the open windows, curtains gently fluttering in the morning breeze.

There was also a smell that was wonderful. Kim blinked and looked over to where Ron was casually sitting, a platter next to him with a number of covered plates.

"8:30," He tsked, "Kimberly Ann Possible, after all the times you got me for sleeping in a little… say to ten or eleven, I'll _never _let you live this one down." Kim blinked, looking at the tray.

"Ron, is that…" she paused, "You ordered out?"

"Nah, I cooked in." He said, as Kim felt her mouth start to water. She'd never smelled anything so good. Ron looked a little uncertain at some of the plates.

"The eggs and ham are typical American." He said, "I'm playing around with some other ideas, but I figured, well, best go with the old fashioned."

"How many things can you cook?"

"More than when I was at school." Ron said, "Believe me, you need something to relax too… and I'm not patient enough for gardening." They ate together in a companionable silence, until the plates were empty. Kim looked over at Ron and quirked one eyebrow.

"I fell asleep in front of the TV?"

"Seems that way—unless you wanted to watch a showing of _America__'s Greatest Posthole diggers."_

"I fell asleep." Kim confirmed. She paused, and then continued, "But I did stay up for the BBC's retrospective on GJ's five year old "secret team."

"Oh." Ron said, "Well, the BBC is truer than some…"

"Afghanistan, Africa, Asia…" Kim paused, "Is their any place you and Yori _haven't _gone?"

"Nope—but we went lots of places, too, KP." Ron said. Kim frowned slightly.

"Not like that, we didn't…Ron… these people…"

"Were real bad types." Ron replied, "trust me, I know…" He shook his head, "Sometimes you think you've seen the absolute worst men can do, and then some bright fellow comes up with something to surprise you." Kim looked at him, but Ron refused to elaborate, and then changed the subject.

"So, what do we want to do today, presuming the world doesn't come to an end?" he asked.

"Well…" Kim said, "I think that maybe I need to start thinking about what I'm going to do."

"KP…" Ron said, "You don't need to do that yet. We have lots of time." Kim looked over at Ron.

"Ron, I need a job…"

"Why?" Ron said, "You have a fair amount in the bank."

"I do?" Kim blinked. Ron looked at her, confused, for a moment, then brightened.

"You never looked at your bank account, did you?"

"It wasn't allowed." Kim said, "No computers with outside links, and I never really worried about the 41.92 that I knew was in it.

"Well, let's check your account," he said. Kim blinked as they walked into the main room and she keyed in her password.

"It's been changed." Ron smacked his forehead.

"Sorry, KP," He said, "most places use biometrics now—put your finger on the panel by the keyboard." Kim did, and after a few moments, the computer confirmed her identity, and brought up her balance.

She blinked.

And Blinked again.

Obviously, the computer was having a spastic fit, because she _was not_ someone with a bank account of just over fifteen million dollars.

"Fifteen…million dollars?" Kim asked the air.

"Well, more actually, but I've been investing your stock payments." Ron paused, "Actual voting stock was a little dicey, legally, given the felony and the new asset rules, but this was a different sort of animal." He paused, "It's closer to seventy or eighty million, if you count the investment portfolio."

"I…" Kim paused, "Ron, I can't… I mean, I couldn't."

"Why not?" Ron asked. Suddenly, his joking attitude dropped away, "KP, you had to work part time jobs to get a prom dress. You _saved_ my life, more times than I can remember, the last time.." He trailed off and continued, "And we're all supposed to say: 'well, you're an Ex-con, so we have a janitor's job at the school?" He shook his head, "No way. No way in hell, KP. This is _yours_ and you deserve ten times as much, but Yori thought that might give you a heart attack." He smiled, "No strings, KP—if you want to spend the rest of your life hitting every beach in creation, you can. If you want to spend the rest of your life working somewhere because you _want_ to… you can."

"Ron…" Kim said. How did she say this-

"So, I see you are up," Yori said as she walked into the room. She had been standing at the entryway, unnoticed by Kim. It would be impossible to be unnoticed by Ron… she doubted anyone _could_ sneak up on him now. On the other hand, he had been distracted by his surprise… Her lips had a faint concerned cast to them that she smoothed away. She'd hoped Ron wouldn't…but he was so eager to make certain Kim didn't have any problems reentering society…

Kim was sitting, looking poleaxed.

"Ron…" Yori said, "Since you monopolized Kim yesterday, I think I shall monopolize her today… Ned called this morning while you were cooking."

"Oh?" Ron said, "What's up with Ned?"

"The Senate may not approve the Bill." Suddenly, all amusement dropped from Ron's face.

"Those bastards." He said, "Nope, they're not honest politicians, because they certainly aren't staying bought."

"Bought?" Kim asked, in confusion.

"There's a bill up in the Senate that Ron has been backing." Yori said. "It has met with some opposition."

"Food?"

"No." Ron said, pulling his phone out. "Working conditions—it's giving a tariff bonus to companies that can prove they're adhering to safe working conditions, living wages, and that sort of thing in the third world." He paused, "I figured that would be a no-brainer…but there are those who make a lot of money from cheap goods, and figure the kids that get ripped to pieces by unsafe machinery or look 40 when they're fourteen from working in a mine are acceptable profit generators." Kim looked at him, seeing the lines his face had fallen into, the tension that came into his frame. His comment about not having enough time to play games came back to her.

_Ron, how much time **do** you have?_ So far, she'd seen him for two days, and he'd been on one mission, and was now dealing with the U.S. government, in addition to running a company, _and_ cooking breakfast. _When do you find time to sleep?_

"Ned." Ron said, "It's Ron—yeah, I'll tell her… get the people together, and I want a complete run down on why this bill is hitting problems this time…and tell Michael that we may need that netmovie on child labor…and we can follow it up with some factual specials on it. If they want to play hard ball, let's see how easy it is for them to get re-elected when I have pictures of every kid who's died in the last year plastered all over their state."

He sighed, putting the phone back, and then was the old Ron.

"Ned says hi, KP." He grinned, "but he's a little busy now, since the boss is playing hookie." He looked over at Yori, "Monopolizing?"

"Yes, Ron." Yori said, "and in fact, I think that Kim might wish to make some shopping explorations…and I _know_ how much you like shopping." Ron blinked.

"That's a threat." He said. Yori nodded, smiling. She looked over at Kim.

"So, Kim-san, would you enjoy some shopping…just us girls?"

"Well, I mean, If Ron wants to come along…" Kim said, in the spirit of the moment, Ron quickly raised his hands.

"No, that's perfectly all right!" He said, "I think you need to get together with Yori! I'll…just catch up on things with Ned!" He backed out of the room, trying not to give the impression of running away.

"Guns, knives and energy beams… no problem." Yori said, "Shopping with the girls?"

"A terror that cannot be borne?" Kim asked, "Let me get dressed, I'll be right out."

* * *

In the shower, Kim looked at herself critically in the full mirror that occupied one side of the shower cubical.

_I wonder how it keeps from getting fogged._ She thought. After the last few days she looked at herself, _really_ looked at herself.

Yeah. She wasn't 16 anymore. She was still pretty slim…but she'd put weight on. A little curvier, parts that had been washboard flat at 16 were now just a little curving out… her eyes had a few lines around them…. Her old bras wouldn't fit… She was still pretty good, although Yori blew her right out of the water. She bet that Yori looked almost the same as she had when she was 16…in a good way. Kim shook her head, in annoyance. Yori was a friend, from way back, and she was _still_ a friend.

* * *

Once dressed, and enjoying the way the smart fabric snuggled right in, Kim walked out to the living room, where Yori waited.

"Where's Ron?" Kim asked, Yori sighed.

"He decided not to wait on Ned, so right now he's on a conference call with the Speaker of the House and the Minority Party leader."

"I thought the bill was in the Senate."

"It was, but it's the _House_ that has the most members who are facing reelection…Ron thinks they might be able to put pressure on their ah, reluctant colleagues."

"This is Ron, Right?" Kim said.

"He has…changed a bit since you last were in the same house with him."

"Tell me about it—_everything_ about it." Kim said. Yori nodded.

"That is, Kim-san, the reason for this expedition."

* * *

Minutes later, Kim and Yori were heading off to the mall, this time for more of a wandering expedition than the directed shopping expedition her mother had taken her on. Kim abruptly realized that she'd better get her license renewed if she wanted to drive herself anywhere.

The mall was the same combination of familiar and odd Kim had seen before. She and Yori, this time were just exploring, popping in to various stores, shooing the flying orbs away, and looking around.

"I still don't like those things." Kim said, "I mean, how much fun can you have when you're watched all the them?" _I've had about ten years too much of being watched._

"Maybe not as much." Yori quietly said, "but they make people feel safer…"

"Hmph." Kim quietly snorted, "Safer."

"Maybe it is because I am from a nation that has less of a tradition of governmental non-interference." Yori commented, "But as long as measures are taken to prevent misuse…"

"I know, but doesn't it make it hard when you and Ron do the mission thing?" Kim said, _Like__ Ron and I used to?_

"To some extent, yes—but there are counters to everything." They walked into the food court, where the smart walls, made up of thousands of flexible visual transmitters were showing a storm tossed sea. The text that flashed at the very top of the walls announced that it was a live feed from the North Sea oil platform. Kim looked at the chilly scene, and then out the real windows, showing the bright sunlight beating down on the crowded parking lot. They got a light snack, and found their way to a booth.

"Privacy, please." Yori said to the empty air and Kim felt a certain muffling of the outside noise. She raised an eyebrow.

"It is very cheap to purchase directional microphones, and even modern comphones can be modified into it—most places have these systems." Yori explained, "We have a white noise generator, and scrambler…unless we should decide to start screaming, it is hard for anyone to listen in on us." Kim blinked and nodded. Odd—people willing to have floating security cams, _then_ going to the trouble of outfitting an entire food court with anti-evesdropping measures.

"So." Yori said, "Ron."

"Ron." Kim paused, and then decided to come out with her first thought. "You and he are sleeping together, right?" She paused, "I mean, I don't min-I mean, I do, but, I…" She paused, and turned red.

"Not for some time." Yori said, "But yes, I've shared his bed…nobody else has, to my knowledge." She smiled, "If you get much redder, Kim-san, we may have to call a fire truck."

"That, was such a stupid thing to ask, I'm sorry, Yori.."

"Why?" Yori paused, looking over at Kim, "Ron…" She sighed, "He is different, yes?"

"Yes."

"How?" Kim stopped, thought and started again.

"I've only seen him for a few days, but he's…" She struggled to find words, "More…driven. I mean, he laughs and jokes, like the old Ron, and he cooks, and he does weird stuff…but sometimes, like a switch, and he's… his face gets…" Kim waved her hands, "I can't explain it. He didn't seem like that when he was visiting me."

"Perhaps because he didn't wish to." Yori quietly said. "Ron can be very good at putting on a face when he needs to…whether being his old Ron or when he says something funny to a dying child to ease her way out of the circles of this world." Kim blinked. Without asking she knew that Yori hadn't made that last example up.

"You remember Ron, during the illness, right Kim?" Kim closed her eyes at that.

* * *

_Kim was standing, outside of the isolation ward. Even the doctors were in full bio-warfare gear, not for their own sake, but Ron's. His immune system was coming apart at the seams, cancers exploding on every part of his body. Ron was barely visible under the tubes keeping him alive, his eyes flickering, hair mostly fallen out. Large black patches on his skin told where necrotization and gangrene had set in, and nurses were scrubbing those away with brushes, conjuring muffled screams from the teen. He had long since passed any possible reach of pain killers. Kim felt the cool glass under her fingers as she looked in. She could hear her mother talking to the oncologist in the background._

_"….interferon?"_

_"Nothing—targeted anti-bodies, immunotherapy, it ate them all without even noticing it. He's already losing body mass to necrotic growths—in a few days, a week at the most, we'll have to start amputating." The doctor paused, "Not that it-" A motion from her mother, caught his attention, and he looked at Kim. The two moved further down the corridor, leaving her alone. Kim watched as the nurses left, opening the door almost covered with get well cards from school mates and friends, and people they'd helped. _

_Ron moved slightly, his eyes coming to rest on Kim at the window. She spread her fingers out on the cold surface, wanting to touch him so badly. Ron couldn't speak with all the tubes down his mouth, but it looked like he was trying to smile, even through the sores on his lips and cheeks that made any movement agony. His left hand twitched, the bandages, already staining red, moving… as he, through what effort Kim couldn't imagine, gave her a thumbs up. _

_Kim waited until he faded into unconsciousness. She felt her mothers hands touch her on the shoulder._

_"Kimmie…we should let him rest." Kim let her mother walk her down to the lounge. It had just been months ago that they'd had the prom, that they'd been so undefeatable. _

_Kim felt herself falling into her mother, Dr. Possible holding her child in her arms._

_"Mommy…oh God…" Kim sobbed, "I…" _

_"Shh…. I know." Her mother said, "We're doing everything we can." She did not say Ron would get better. Kim's mother did not lie. Even when those lies would have been comforting.

* * *

_

Kim shook her head, the cheerful sounds and sights of the mall coming back to her.

"Yeah, I do."

"After you arranged for his cure, he required a certain amount of recovery. He was in the command center during the hunt for.. you know." Yori continued on another tangent, "But his metabolism recovered quickly, perhaps because of his connection with the Lotus blade and the source he and Monkey Fist shared in." She looked across the hall.

"But it didn't protect him from despair. He became…brutal. Wade and Global Justice eventually stopped booking him, so he took his anger out on drug dealers. He finally came to Japan—Sensei requested him to come defend the school."

"Monkey Fist?" Kim asked.

"Nobody. Ron…" She shrugged, "He was terribly angry, terribly weak. He didn't take care of himself, he used the money from Bueno Nacho to keep hunting for something that would make him work better—some victory so great that the United States would have to release you." She sighed. "He despised himself for his weakness."

"_Weakness?_" Kim said angrily. "Who said that?"

"He did. If he had been faster, not the dopey sidekick, in his words, he would have never been injured, you would have never had to have done what you did, and you would be free." Kim sat back, shocked. How could Ron think that?

"That of course," Yori continued, "Was what led to this Ron…he got his anger under control, and it didn't fall into the self hate I fear it might have. We became lovers." She smiled, "And more importantly, even closer friends."

"And you started running missions again." Kim said.

"Yes, as well as Ron getting Bueno Nacho under control." She paused, "But our missions… well, you've seen the briefings of our time after we started working with GJ and INTERPOL. The number of mad scientists are small compared to the number of simply evil individuals." She paused, "That was the first time…" Yori shook her head. "I am sorry, Kim-san, that is Ron's story to tell, not mine." She smiled, "But as you see, he's mastered the Lotus Blade, is the _only_ one since our founder to carry it so long, and now has set his sights on higher matters—he enjoys life, do not forget that, but he sees Bueno Nacho, and his wealth as another blade, one he can lay to the roots of evils that cannot simply be carted off to jail."

"It sounds like he's become a bit…type A." Kim said.

"He has… in some respects." Yori paused, "Sometimes he'll wake me up in the middle of the night, bursting into my room with a new idea, or plan…and then his subordinates know to fear, because the next thing he'll be doing is calling _them_ late at night."

"Why don't you sleep together anymore?" Kim asked. It was odd, she reflected. If Ron and Yori had slept together before this, she'd be hitting the roof right about now, but Ron needed comfort…and if Yori was the one to give it…well, that was OK.

"Oh Kim…I can be his friend, and even his lover…but there is only one soul who can truly unlock his own." She smiled at Kim. Kim looked back at her, and than away.

_Then Ron's__ not as Bright as he thinks…he has a **much** better deal in Yori. _But she had to ask the most important question.

"Is he happy, Yori?"

"Most of the time? Yes." Yori paused, "But everyone gets tired, and sometimes Ron forgets how much he's done…and simply looks up the slope to how much remains to be done…" Kim shook her head and tried to find another subject.

"I can't believe…millions of dollars." She said, Yori laughed.

"He was thinking about giving you 25 percent of the Bueno Nacho stock…until I pointed out that might be a little overwhelming."

"More than fifteen million?"

"In monetary value, try about seven and a half _billion_, dollars." Yori paused, "Bueno Nacho is one of the largest food companies on the planet, and Ron's diversified greatly."

"Oh." Kim said. "I was thinking of getting a job…but now… I mean, most people like to talk about how fun it would be to not have to work, but I don't want to just sit around and do nothing…" She paused, "I've had about ten years too much of that." She smiled . "I can't do missions…" She paused, "But that doesn't mean I can't train for them….how about if we go home and you show me how to use that training set up!" Yori controlled her wince.

_Well, Ron, your plan to distract her lasted less than one week._ Now she wanted to do the one thing that Ron was utterly dead set against. Yori gave a mental sigh. Well, she'd promised to stay, they were her friends, and she would stay… even if right now, the image of the oncoming argument made her want to head back to Japan as fast as she could.

TBC.


	9. VIII

"I…" Yori paused, "Kim…" She paused, "Ron will…not be happy." Suddenly Kim had her arms folded, looking at Yori.

"I'm not saying that I should go on missions, but I can train for them…for later." She looked at Yori more closely. "Are you saying Ron won't _let_ me?" She said, her voice dropping twenty degrees in the last syllables. Yori chose her words with care.

"Ron…" Yori paused, "Ron fears for you, Kim." She raised a hand to forestall Kim's comment, "I know it is unfair, but in blaming himself for your imprisonment, he has… become wedded to the idea that he _will_ protect you." She paused, "Even from yourself."

"From _Myself?_" Kim said, and was suddenly glad for the sound proofing—that had come out a bit louder than she'd intended. Yori didn't flinch.

"It was your actions that led to you being imprisoned for ten years."

"Yeah, well, what does Ron expect—that I would just let him _die?_"

"Sometimes, in his darker moments, he wished that. He has been very guilty about you, Kim." Yori shook her head, "I'm sorry—I cannot tell you more, it's not my place to do so… but he will be…reluctant to do this." Kim hadn't caught her earlier statement.

"Well we'll just see about that." She said, getting up and walking out, carrying some of the packages she'd bought. Yori followed her, shaking her head.

Kim stalked into the front room of the mansion, listening for Ron's voice. She quickly heard it. He was on the phone.

_On the phone?__ Does he **ever** just lay around? _

"Thank _you_, sir." Ron was saying. "I just did some of the grunt work." A pause, "I'll keep that in mind, Mr. President. Thank you. Good bye."

"President of what, Ron?" Kim asked as she came in the open door.

"The United States." Ron said. "He decided to whisper in some ears, so the bill will get passed." For a moment, Kim paused.

_The President?_She'd been given an award, once by the President… but he'd no more ask her opinion or help her pass a bill then fly to the moon. Ron evidently had a different relationship. She shook her head. That was getting off track.

"Ron, I want to start training."

"For what?" He said.

"Missions." Rufus perked up at that, then charged out of the room to find a hiding place.

"No." Ron said.

_"What?_"

"Okay, how about: Going back to prison for blowing the terms of your parole would _really_ suck." Ron paused, "I seem to remember something in there about neither seeking out missions, or putting yourself in a position where you expect something like that to happen. Rabbi Katz is nice, Kim, but he's not a fool and he won't let you run over him."

Kim was still processing Ron and "no." He was…how could he… Maybe she should.

"Don't bother with the Puppy Dog pout." Ron said. "No missions." Now Kim felt the blood rushing to her face, as unexpected fury broke out. She was _out_ of jail and part of that meant that she could do what she wanted to! A small part of her pointed out that it was Ron's house and he had a say in what was done, but the rest of her shouted that part down.

"Ronald Stoppable…" She said, "I am not going on a mission yet, but you have _no_ right to tell me what I can, or cannot do! I am not your kid!" A brief flash of pain went past Ron's features.

"Kim. He said, reaching out. Kim slapped his hand aside.

"Don't 'Kim' _me!"_ She said. "I am not a kid, Ron, and I am _going_ to get back in shape and that means training."

"OK." Ron said,

"And-ok?"

"OK." Ron repeated. "But some ground rules."

"What?"

"No missions. There's a bit more to lose lying to your parole officer than there was to your parents."

"Ok…"

"And you only train in the chamber when Yori or I can supervise—it can be dangerous and you don't know how to use it yet."

"OK…"

"And Kim?"

"Ron?"

"Look at me and tell me that you aren't doing this to try and start doing missions behind anyone's back." Kim blinked, then reddened. After one incident, she had never lied to Ron.

"Unless I get permission from Rabbi Katz and the parole board, no." Kim said, and sighed, unhappily.

"Good." Ron said, and then suddenly chipper again, motioned to her. "Let's go."

_Success!_ Kim thought. Ron had given in pretty easi-

Kim blinked, and suddenly, as Ron kept walking down towards the drill room, went cold.

Ron had…played her. Not in the sense of lying to her, but in the sense of realizing she was about to throw a fit, and smoothly giving in just enough to avert it.

In fact…he'd acted…

Exactly like clueful parents had, and she'd been acting exactly like a teenager…

_But I'm not…_

_You were sure acting like one. _

_He has no right!_

_So what are you going to do? Turn around and refuse to do what you asked to do? I know! How about go up and sulk in the guest room. That'll be **real** mature. _Kim shook her head, as she heard Yori follow her.

It wasn't that everyone else had suddenly changed, Kim thought. Bonnie, Tara, even Ron and Yori…they'd stayed the same, were just like every other group of twenty something's.

It wasn't them. It was _her_. They were adults…she was still a teen. Kim wondered how long it had been since someone had told Bonnie to clean her room. For her, it was a regulation chore, complete with punishments if you didn't do it.

The others had ten _years_ of dealing with people, of college, job and vacation… Kim had had ten years of dealing with guards or prison consulors, or the occasional permitted meeting with Ron or her parents, and the even rarer meetings with the other inmates.

How much else had she missed? Kim bit her lip as she followed Ron. Unconsciously, one hand clenched into a fist.

In the dressing room for the Dojo, Ron pulled out a package that looked a lot like his nanomorph armor.

"This is the drill suit." He said. "Watch." Ron stripped nude, causing Kim to goggle slightly, since she and Yori were in the room. Well, partially because of that. Ron's muscles were defined and flowing, but not overly massive. Kim saw a tracery of fine scars on his back, like someone had fired glass at him. Her eyes dipped down a little further.

_Oops_, Kim shot her eyes back up to chest level, reddening. Then the suit was flowing over Ron, covering him, up to the neck.

"It'll cover my face in a second." Ron said, "This isn't completely like the combat suit. Yori—why don't you help Kim."

"Yes, Ron." Yori said. As she approached Kim, she had another package. "You'll have to disrobe, Kim-san." Kim took off her clothes. _That_ didn't embarrass her very much—in prison even when she was showering alone, there was always a camera watching or one of the female guards. Granted, they were mostly married women, but still, after a while you got used to it.

Of course, the implication was that Ron and Yori probably disrobed like this all the time…so why did the easy familiarity they had with each other bug her more than the image of them making wild passionate sex? Then the liquid was flowing up into her face and for a second Kim started to panic, but then she could see, and feel…almost like she was wearing nothing. Ron looked like a silver statue.

"This sort of thing is popular at some beaches." Ron commented, "Set it on the skintight setting and it shows _everything_ while still being able to play and run without, ah, hurting anything precious if you fall."

"That's where these come from?" Kim said, running her hands over her body. Except for the tiny feeling of extra thickness, she might be nude—she could feel the air on her… everything.

"Nope—these are Mark X, United States Marine Corps training combat suits—they're a bit different." Ron said. "While everybody else was talking about killer commandoes wearing nanomorph, _or _the swimsuit that always fit perfectly, the Corps had a better idea—training suits."

"Why?" Kim asked. She and Ron had used MILES gear, the training set up that was common before she went to jail.

"Because a buzzer and a light is a lousy way to tell you you're dead." Ron said. "Kim, These suits… they basically let you feel anything short of deadly pain. If the computer decides you've been shot, it sends a neural signal and you _feel_ like you've been shot. If your leg wouldn't be usable, it'll freeze up your leg. No cheating. No 'critically injured' soldiers strolling out—you have to carry them." He shrugged, "It also protects you, of course—for all the pain, they've had _fewer_ lethal training accidents, but still, this is no picnic."

"_Tara_ wore one of these?"

"Training suit? Probably. Flight suits are a little different, but you know the Marines—Every Marine is a Rifleman first. " Ron grinned, "Remind me to show you a video a friend sent me of her at bayonet practice in basic. She really got into that part, poor dummies."

"I'm ready." Kim said. Ron frowned faintly, and looked at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Kim said, the word coming out just a little loud.

"Fine." He said, "Let's go." They walked into the Dojo and Ron touched several controls on a keyboard set up, talking to the computer all the while.

"Lets, try… ah, here's a good one. London, 2011…those Welsh Liberation idiots."

_"Welsh?_" Kim asked.

"Not many heard about 'em—a racist gang, kind of like our skinheads, and they figured a ticket to the big time would be a nice bunch of hostages." Ron said, looking down, "So they took a classroom full of parents and students hostage." As he was talking, the room started changing. On one corner, a group of adults and children were coming into shimmering life, while several synthodrones walked out. Ron kept talking.

"We can't produce enough synthodrones to have the hostages be them as well, so the computer uses holograms—and your suit "knows" their location, so if you "hit" them, it'll react like you hit something—aided by a high pressure blast of air. He paused, "the Synthodrones just run into the drains for reconstitution, so feel free to hit them. We have other drills where the computer actually uses holograms to make the place "bigger", but this is a simple one. You should see the big U.S. combat simulator at Fort Bragg—they can run up to _1200_ synthodrones at once, as both civilian and threat forces." Another few touches, and they were standing in front of a "School", with glass windows and doors. Ron looked over at Kim.

"I handled this one, Yori was out with a broken leg. When you enter the doors, the simulation begins." Kim grinned. Ron had messed up—she'd seen the position of the four bad guys, which mean that they'd be easy to get.

"I'm ready."

"Gun?" Ron asked.

"Gun!" Kim shook her head, "Ron, I don't use guns." A flicker of something behind his eyes…

"Things are a little different with these guys, KP…but OK." Ron said, "Clocks running." Kim nodded. She looked at the door, nope too obvious, so she'd break the window in, and…

Kim was running, feeling in "mission mode" for the first time since she'd entered prison. Kicking through the windows, she "felt" the glass give way under her foot, but she didn't have time for appreciating the technology. There, she was in, two synthodrones raising their guns, Kim spun low, kicked the first ones legs out from under it, and turned to the second one, when all of a sudden the thunder of gunshots filled the room, to a chorus of screams.

Kim turned and her mind turned blank for a tiny second, the wall behind the hostages was covered in blood as the two others were _firing_ on the parents and children, the holographs showing effects that would have had any movie rated NC-17.

_What are- A_ hammer blow struck Kim low in the back, flinging her to the floor. Kim tried to roll over, but for some reason the suit wouldn't let her move, although she was able to get a look at the synthodrone she'd kicked, on its knees holding the shotgun that had just fired.

The damned suit wasn't letting her get up, while the screaming stopped. Then, another synthodrone walked up over her, avoiding her flailing hands. Kim gasped, and for a second forgot that it was a simulation, as the drone pointed a large revolver right at her head. There was a sound of thunder, then the computers emotionless voice as the scene dissolved and the synthodrones froze.

"Simulation terminated at 09.15 seconds. Twelve hostages fatally injured, eight hostages wounded, terminal if no medical aid is received. No hostiles neutralized. One friendly KIA. Score: 0."

TBC.


	10. IX

As the simulation shut down, Kim winced. Ron had been right about feeling the pain…but that wasn't the only thing she was feeling. A complex mix of humiliation and anger ran through her.

"What was _that_ about, Ron?" Kim said angrily.

"What?" Ron asked, in all innocence. "It was a standard drill…like I said, one I did."

"Oh, and how did you stop them?" Kim asked.

"I used a gun." Ron said, "On the two covering the hostages, then dealt with the other two." His voice was clipped, clinical. "You screwed up by trying to engage the guards, because the immediate threat to the _hostages_ came from the other two. The best tactic was to attack those two, because the guards will then focus on you, like they planned, instead of the hostages." Ron paused, "I had some bells and whistles, and none of the terrorists were killed…" He paused, "But you didn't ask about any of that, or even suggest that one of us might go with you."

"It was a _test?"_ Kim asked. Ron looked at her, frowning.

"Not really. Those hostages are _dead_, remember that—it may not be reality, but if it had, right now the locals could be having to haul over twenty bodies, counting yours to the hospital or morgue." The clinical tone came back, "Your first screw up was in not asking what resources were available, even _after_ seeing that there were four men, armed, and after you'd been told it was a hostage situation." Kim blinked, Ron _hadn't_ accidentally shown her the inside of the room, as he continued talking. "Your second, and critical, failure was you did not consider the hostages your primary goal, and engaged one man while leaving the others free to shoot the hostages." He paused, "You were also slow, and inaccurate… easily 30 percent below your teen aged norms, at least as far as the computer is concerned."

"But…that wasn't _fair!"_

"No. It was reality. The two are seldom identical."

"If I could have gotten up, I could have stop-" Ron touched a button and an image of Kim's body appeared, with red all over the lower back.

"According to the simulation, the shotgun blast, in addition to punching big holes through your intestines, severed your spine." Kim gulped at that image.

"Kim-san." Yori said, "This was an accurate simulation."

"Designed to show me that I can't cut it anymore? _Thanks, Ron._" Kim said angrily. Ron looked away, came to some internal decision, and looked directly at her.

"Yes, that was partially it, Kim, because you are _twenty-seven._" He sighed, "And for the last ten years, you've been able to exercise for limited times, or in your cell—no drills, no practices, no nothing. Your body is fit, but that honestly doesn't cut it here… you don't even have your _old_ reflexes, and your mindset…just isn't there…these aren't Drakken and Shego, or Demontor." He looked over at the now empty room, the Synthodrones having retired, "This is people who feel that the best way to get known is a big body count…emphasis on both 'body' and 'count'." He paused, "You can not want to, you can consider it a last resort, but dealing with these people, you must be ready to kill. Because if you don't, they certainly will." Kim saw Ron clench a fist.

"Oh, so I can't get any better?"

"You could." Yori said, and Kim looked over to Ron in triumph, but then Yori continued, "You could improve, Kim-san…but never up to your old levels. You are at the stage where you would have to work far harder to restore what younger people can easily achieve."

"And you and Ron?"

"We never stopped working at it." Ron said, "And Mystical Monkey Power has some advantages—my reflexes, which I go all out, are about 30 percent faster than the best human norms, and Yori's are about ten percent faster…and we have equipment to make it up."

"So I should just go and loll around on a beach?" Kim said angrily. "That's not _your _decision to make, Ronald!" Ron actually winced at her tone, but Kim didn't care. His voice was calm, though.

"No, it isn't. But it _is_ my decision to make about whether or not to help you either get killed _or_ get sent back to jail for the next 10 years."

"You're not the only one-" Kim said, breathing hard.

"Wade won't help you." Ron said, "And no, I didn't ask him, because he doesn't want to see you in jail anymore than the rest of us do." He paused, "But if you want to ask, solely on the question of physical ability…" Ron held out a slip of paper.

_He had prepared for this before I even came down_.

"What's this?" Kim asked angrily.

"Contact numbers. The SEAL training school in San Diego, Sandhurst for the Brits, United States Special Operations Command. You did favors for most of them in the past, and I swear to you that I never contacted them on this. But they'll tell you the same thing I just did." Ron paused, "The average age of a new SEAL is twenty-one, Kim." Kim wanted to start screaming at Ron. His damned voice was so calm, and he… she…

_He's not letting me run over him._ Kim thought. She'd _always_ been able to convince him to see things her way before.

"So now in addition to Rabbi Katz, _you're_ in charge of deciding what I should or should not do?"

"Kim… I just want you to be happy." Ron said, softly, regretfully. Kim didn't hear him, lost in her anger.

"I'm _not_ in jail anymore, and I'm _not_ going to sit in a box for _you!_" Kim said, and by the end of the sentence she _was_ screaming. Turning on her heel, she left the room, heading for the upper floor… she managed to keep her anger going until she was out of their sight, but by the time she got upstairs, she realized she was crying.

* * *

Downstairs, Ron moved to follow, but Yori put out her hand.

"I will follow her, Ron." She said, "I do not believe…it would be wise for you to speak to her." Ron sighed and nodded.

Yori left the room, and let the drill suit flow off of him, carefully controlling his emotions. There was barely a tremor in his arms as he pulled on his civilian clothes again. Turning, he bumped the desk and the practice gun he had offered to Kim fell off. Ron grabbed it lightning quick, and then a brief spasm of anger crossed his face as he crumpled the steel and composite weapon in one hand like it was a beer can.

"Damn."

* * *

Yori walked to the guest room, where Kim was trying to pull the suit off, without much success. Maybe because she was having to blow her nose every few seconds.

"Help me get this Goddamned thing off." Kim snarled/wept. Yori nodded, and reached up and touched a point on the suit, stepping back as it obediently flowed off. Then Kim was throwing clothes on, ignoring their feel.

"I'll have mom come and get the rest of the stuff." She said, trying to put a little more steel in her voice, and failing miserably.

"Leaving?" Yori said.

"Yes!" Kim said, "I'm not his kid!"

"He does not think of you like that."

"Then why is he-"

"Because he fears for you, and he wants you to be happy…" Yori paused, but went on before Kim could say anything else, "And he over compensates."

"I-" Yori cut Kim off.

"Kim-san…what would you do, this moment, if your parole were ended, and you were free to do whatever you pleased?" Kim looked at her for a second and then was sitting on the bed, her face in her hands.

"I…" She broke off, unable to speak for a moment, but then took a shuddering breath and continued. "I don't' know." She hiccupped again, "Yori, I'm sorry, he's given me so much but I just get so _mad_, because everything's different… _I'm_ different only I don't know how…"

"And Ron did not help by handing you so much money that you don't have to work, and generally not giving you a chance to even catch your breath."

"Yes…but…" Kim shook her head, "He's different, _you're_ different… Everyone's different." She paused, "Every time I think I has solid ground under my feet, it shifts."

"And the drill?"

"That…" Kim couldn't meet Yori's gaze, "That was real, wasn't it? Not something Ron set up to make certain I failed."

"It was real. Not even the worst." Yori quietly said. "The world has changed, Kim… There are still mad geniuses out there, but well, there are also more of the kind you saw today."

"Who stops the mad geniuses?"

"Some of the time? We do." Yori smiled, but then it slid off her face, "And we also fight the ethnic cleansers, the terrorists…" She shook her head, "But Kim, trust me on this, please. I am your friend, but I fear the days of you fighting the good fight have passed."

"But that's the only thing I might _have."_ Kim's voice came out in a wail. "I can't do cheerleading, I never graduated, I haven't even worked in ten years…what am I supposed to _do?_" Her voice trailed off miserably, "If it's just sit here, or on a beach…is that so different from just being in jail?"

"For some, yes. For you…" Yori took Kim's hands in hers, "Maybe not so big…you need something to do, and though I will no doubt be frowned at for saying this, maybe be apart from Ron for a time…or at least not living in his house." Kim looked at Yori, and Yori laughed.

"Do not worry, Kim-san…this is no plot to 'get Ron back.' But if you are going to try to find yourself… well, Ron is a billionaire, he talks to the president, even has his direct number, runs a vast corporation… That is rather hard to forget and might tend to be overpowering, especially if you also live under his roof, _neh__?"_

"I don't want to hurt him." Kim said, sniffling.

"You won't…if anything, this may help him." Yori's voice suddenly became serious, "Especially if he decides that he must…change."

"Yori? What's that about."

"Nothing, Kim-san, just a thought." Kim, lost in her own thoughts, didn't follow up.

"So what do I do?"

"Get cleaned up." Yori said practically. "And then… inform your mother you'll be moving back in, and get a job somewhere…." She paused, "Do you want my help?"

"No…uh…no…I'll just walk around town and see if there are any 'help wanted' signs." Yori nodded at that.

"Good. Now, I'll help you pack and get home and then return to see if Ron is out of the funk he'll no doubt be in."

"Yori…I should say I'm sorry-"

"No."

"_What?_"

"Kim-san, as I said, Ron is very much more assertive, and persuasive. If you go to apologize, I would lay you odds that he'd convince you that you should stay…which isn't a good idea right now." She smiled, "You two have been separated for ten years…I think we may find a temporary happy medium between that and living under the same roof."

* * *

TBC. 


	11. X

For those asking...yes, I will _GO_ to the mountain,and return with wisdom for Senior Year... yes, there will be another chapter to it. In a week. I swear. It may be a short chapter, but It will be a chapter. After this, I'll keep Senior year going, as well as the star wars and far scape stories-- Noir may take a little longer because one has to be in a well...Noirish mood.

Replies to reviewers are at the end of the story, and without further ado:

* * *

Yori called the cab for Kim, and bent down as she got into it. 

"Do not worry, Kim-san…you will be back when ever you wish. I simply have to…discus some things with Ron…"

"Like what?" Kim asked, still looking a little rocky.

"That using the interpersonal equivalent of flash bang grenades and kicked in doors is not always the best way of going about things." She smiled, "It has been a while since Ron was yelled at, and this will be good for him." Yori paused, "Few enough people do that as it is…" Her voice became softer, "He does love you, Kim-san, or else he would not be so desperate to make you "happy"." Yori looked back at the mansion. "But between us, I feel we shall convince him of the error of his ways."

"Yori?" Kim asked,

"Yes?"

"_Could _I, get back into the mission mode?" Yori paused.

"You will never be at the level you were—there is a _reason_ there are few female Olympic gymnasts over the age of 18. You could train to compensate for it, but it would be difficult in the extreme." Then she looked at Kim directly, "But ask yourself, Kim-san…do you wish to do it because it is your hearts desire, or because it is simply something that can link you to your past?"

"I…" Yori cut Kim off.

"Don't answer that now…just think about it. Goodbye, Kim." Yori watched, as Kim's cab drive off then, her lips compressing into a tight line, marched back into the mansion. It was time to have a chat with Ron.

Oh yes.

* * *

When Dr. Possible came home, she found her daughter sitting in the living room, listlessly flipping through channels. 

"Kimmie!" She said, in surprise. "I thought you were staying with Ron!" Kim looked over at her and Dr. Possible, with mother's intuition, noticed that she'd been crying even though she'd managed to clean up. She sat down beside her daughter.

"Problems?"

"Mom…" Kim sighed, it was odd to be able to confide in her mother after so many years, "Why do men have to be such utter _buttheads?_"

"Mmmm…." Her mother mused, "I think it's a genetic flaw, connected to the gene that makes someone a male…because I have yet to see a man who _isn't_ a butthead, at least part of the time." She paused, "What did Ron do?"

"He…oooohhhhhh…." Kim found herself telling her mother everything that had happened, from the fifteen million to the drill. When she was finished, her mother had a finger lightly tapping her lower lip, looking fascinated. Kim looked at her mother, and Ann lightly brushed back her grey frosted red hair.

"Well, Kim… Ron _is_ right about your parole…but that wasn't the point." Her mother said, "He ambushed you…and honestly, _he_ didn't start out dealing with people like this…2011 was better than five years after you were put in jail and Ron and Yori had been working for nearly four years." The doctor paused, "That aside, Ron _is_ right about the fact that your age would be a factor against you. Yori is right… about both the physical ways you could get back, and the question she asked. Do you?" Anne asked. Kim grabbed a pillow and put it to her head.

"I don't _know_." She said, "I just don't know…but…"

"But Ron decided to run you over when you weren't even certain." Anne paused, "It's a bit late to have this conversation, Kimmie, but understand this… nature and evolution insures that well, the male who fathers the most children feels successful."

"And that influences Ron?"

"Because this is tied to the male genetic impulse to never leave well enough alone, stick things into orifices best left unstuck, both metaphorically and literally, and generally have a tremendously hard time with just _waiting._" She laughed, "Ron can stay physically still, _absolutely _still for hours….. But ask him to wait, to just stop _thinking _or planning…" She shook her head.

"That's hard to believe." Kim said, thinking of Ron's nervous energy… and lack of forethought.

"I know, but I've seen it. He's changed Kim…but one thing that never changed was how much he car-no, how much he loves you."

"Then should I-" Kim thought, maybe mom was hinting she should go back.

"No." There was certainty in her mothers voice, "Ron loves you, but he needs to give you space. Love isn't an excuse to mold someone against their will… he understands this, he just needs to think about it for a while…and Kim, he needs you."

"OK mom." Kim said, "I've had lots of hints about Ron…don't you think you should tell me directly?"

"All right." Her mother said.

* * *

Yori didn't find Ron in the underground section of the mansion, which meant he was in the office. She sighed. That wasn't a good sign. Years ago, it had been video games that had been Ron's refuge from trouble, but no longer. 

In the office, Ron was going over figures and reports. He was also looking at the teddy bear in the glass box. That was a _very_ bad sign. The teddy bear was a ragged bear…with what looked like a slash down its front, stuffing falling out and ocher stains all over it. Yori rapped on the door frame.

"A bit busy, Yori." She shook her head, and casually wandered over to the desk, picked up the papers and put them to the side.

"Hey!"

"Now, we shall talk. Or rather, _I_ shall talk, and you shall listen."

"And I'll do this because?"

"Because I never murdered you in your sleep for murmuring 'Kim…' in my ear the first time we had sex." Yori answered practically. "My restraint had, and has a price, and you're paying it now." Ron winced.

"I'd hoped you'd forgotten that, it being eight years ago and all…"

"That is…not something a woman _ever_ forgets." Yori said, not hinting that she really wanted to grin at his trapped look. It had hurt, Yori had acknowledged at the time, but she also knew that no matter how much he loved Yori, she would never supplant Kim in his heart. Which allowed her to forgive him.

Well, and the fact that Ron had never done it again, and the trapped panicked look on his face when she'd watched him replaying the night in his mind, when his mind got to what he'd actually _said…_ At least she hadn't been a virgin that night like he had been.

"I have heard stories about Kim, and Kim and the soccer team, and I shall paraphrase: 'Kim is an adult, who wants to find her place…who may very well start _crying _when she sees you _coming." _

"It's not that bad…she's just…having a few problems re adjusting."

"Which you are not making any easier."

"I just want to make her hap-"

"Happy, I know, and she was very happy today, as we all saw." Yori took a deep breath. "Ron, you are far from the easy going boy I remembered. In some ways that is good…Ron of old would never have had this…" She indicated the house, office, and company beyond it, "More importantly, never have done the good you have done—far beyond the missions, there are literally _millions_ of children and adults with good food, and good health and futures because of your works." Ron started to speak but Yori cut him off. "But Kim does not need someone to _make_ her happy—that is a fool's errand. All you are doing is making her feel like you wish to put her in another type of prison…and I think she has had enough of _that."_

"How? By giving her enough money so she doesn't have to work or be dependent on anyone?"

"Except you."

"She's not dependent on me-" Ron said and Yori cut him off.

"You put millions in her bank account…what is she supposed to think?"

"That I'd never hold that over her!" Yori sighed.

"And later she might realize that…but now…Ron, she has been in the free air for less than a week…and you haven't given her much of a chance to breath it in. I know you want her to be happy…but you have to let her discover what happy _is for herself_."

"It's not going on missions." Yori whacked the top of the desk with the flat of her hand.

"Baka!"

* * *

"Kimmie." Kim's mother said, "Ron was…devastated when he realized what had happened." Kim nodded. The first few times Ron had visited her, still in a wheelchair, he'd barely been able to speak to her, his humor and joking completely deserting him as he saw her enter the room, secured, in the orange jumpsuit that all inmates were required to wear at the time (with the use of the implanted chips, they had finally gained some choice in their clothes). "He blamed himself." She continued, "Because if he'd been faster, better, Gill would have never been able to spray him." 

"None of us knew what Gill had done." Kim said. A frown creased her features, "What happened to Gill, anyway?"

"Hunters found a skeleton a few years back—it looked twisted…best guess, eventually the mutation process killed him. Good riddance." Her mother said. Kim blinked, but let it pass.

"So, Ron decided to become a ninja?"

"In a way." Her mother sighed, "Not simply that, but he left for Japan…we didn't hear from him…and then suddenly after nearly a year, he was back. He kept visiting you, except for a few short months, but was always just there and gone." Kim nodded, she'd remembered the time when he'd just vanished and then suddenly started visiting again.

"When he came back… well, it was incredible. He got the Naco money from his parents, and started investing it—and calling in favors." She smiled, "Ron is part owner of the smart fabric patents, for example," Anne looked across the room at a picture of Kim and Ron, at age twelve.

"But he didn't laugh as much, and he was always busy, on missions, working, building Bueno Nacho up…like he had to prove he was _worthy_ of being saved. Worthy of the price paid." Kim looked at her mother hotly.

"Who could doubt it?"

"Ron, for one, Kim." Anne said quietly, "And he's kept working since then. We have a new surgical wing, courtesy of Ron…but he's spent far more on the third world."

"I know…you should have heard him."

"He was happy? Oh good. A lot of times he just gets himself a little depressed."

"Why?"

"Because he talks about what he has done, which gets into how much there is to do, and the fact that on a world where you can buy a smart bra to fit your boobs exactly… people still starve to death." Anne paused, and continued, "I don't know what happened, but I do know that about eight years ago, something happened to Ron, he is absolutely obsessed on this subject—partially it's trying to show he isn't the layabout some thought he was… but it's more than that." Kim's mother looked back at the picture, "And I'm afraid that it may be consuming him, Kimmie."

* * *

"That is what you think!" Yori said. 

"You want her to go back to jail?"

"If Kim decides that she desires that…that it is important enough to bear the risk, I have no right to _stop_ her." Yori said, "And neither do you, Ron Stoppable, for she is an adult…or were you thinking of drugging her and chaining her up in the basement? There are _cars_ out there on the street, and who knows when she may be hit, so it might be wise to keep her safe…" She paused, "You have been so concerned with her happiness, that you have not yet truly asked her what _she_ desires."

"I've trie-"

"Yes, and overcompensated… had you thought of it, I'm certain you would have hired a pair of male fashion models to peel her grapes for her!" Ron's face changed. "A-hah! I knew it—thank God you _hadn't_ thought of it."

"Yori, she needs to be-"

"Happy, yes, and when was she happiest?"

"Um…"

"Baka…" Yori said tiredly. She'd forgotten what Ron could be like when he was being obtuse. "The park…neh? She was happy because you were just being Ron to her….like the old days."

"I can't be that Ron." He said quietly. "Not any more."

"You do not have to be…but you do have to realize that what Kim wants from you has little to do with money…and more to do with you. I hope you have not changed _that_ much." Yori paused, "If Kim wishes to use the dojo, I will supervise her training."

"Yori-"

"It might become very lonely here if _everyone_ moves out, Ron… I did not say I would take her on missions, and I don't even know if she _wants_ to go on missions." Yori paused, and unleashed her final offensive. "Or would you prefer her to get angry, her 'Kimness' to come forward, and decide to go off and find a mission, as she is now, with her current skills?" Ron's face turned pale.

"OK." He said, in surrender. "But no going on missions, Yori."

"Very well, Ron…but at some point she will be, if she decides to train, at least up to the minimal levels of competency… at that point…"

"That's at least three months, if she does it full time." Ron said. "I don't suppose we could have a major malfunction in the Dojo…"

"In a system that has not been down one day since you installed it? No." Ron closed his eyes.

"OK…damn it." He paused, "Yori… train her in everything…if you're going to do this, do it right."

"And you, Ron?"

"I'll…think about it." He said, depressed. Then he continued, "Yori… when you do this…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind… I'll tell her some things…" Yori nodded.

* * *

"So what do I do?" Kim asked. "I don't need a job, unless I don't touch the money, and that seems pretty mean…" 

"Not to mention short sighted." Her mother said in amusement. "You could stay here and work at the job your father set up for you."

"He never told me…what is it?"

"Mmmm…." Anne paused, and looked up, "I think it involved sitting at a desk looking out at the parking lot and not much else, other than looking pretty…."

"A make work job?" Kim said, annoyed.

"Kimberly! Your father would never do that…it's a job that allows him to know that his little daughter is making money doing nothing, in order to pay her back for the fact that Dr. (rocket scientist) Possible was unable to find out a way to subvert the United States Justice system.

"Oh. Male thing?"

"Pretty much."

"And you're handling it because…"

"I'm female, which means that I can cry and go hysterical at need rather than bottling it up until I explode." Ann replied, "And I'm a doctor… and you know, Kim…not all of my patients' stories had happy endings." Kim nodded. By her fourteenth birthday, she'd understood what she hadn't when she'd been younger, the times her mother had stayed with friends, or at a hotel, or when her father and mother had left unexpectedly, leaving a babysitter for Kim. Losing patients hadn't been easy for her mother, not at all.

"I don't want a job that's just given to me…I want one I can _get_." Kim said. "And I don't want to stay here."

"Oh? Why?"

"It's…" Kim waved around at the house, "Mom, it's like I'm still sixteen here…but I'm not. Like it or not, I'm twenty-seven, an ex-con and that's where I need to start from." She sighed, "And I'm not certain dad would understand that. Do you?"

"Yes." Her mother said, "You know there's a new apartment building, just opened a couple of years ago, and It's convenient to downtown Middleton, Ron's house, our house… in fact it might even be perfect for someone wanting to get her bearings…"

"And…" Kim looked at the newspaper ad her mother had just produced. "You just thought of this?"

"No, I was thinking of it on recitation number 348 of what your father intended to do to make you happy… like Ron, with a stunning lack of input from Kimberly Ann Possible."

"You Rock, Mom…"

TBC.

* * *

Recon228: I'm not in the field or anything like it, but I do have friends who are police officers, and other friends who have enjoyed stays in the government funded housing called the State Prison system. I'm honored by the compliment, though.

Jezrianna2.0: Kim would have great troubles getting back in the groove, largely because she'd have to learn other ways of working rather than her 16 year old manuvers. The question of should she, or even does she wish to...that is for a future chapter. Also, Ron did blindside her...as Yori pointed out.

GoTeamGirl: Well, it started out as a short story...it just kinda sat out in the sun and grew :).

Thanks to everyone else for your kind comments, and I hope you like this chapter!


	12. XI

The next morning, Kim's first step was to give Rabbi Katz a call, since she'd no longer be staying at either Ron's or her old house. The rabbi was surprisingly supportive.

"It's not in any red zones, Kimberly, so I don't see any problems." Kim nodded. That meant it wasn't close to any area where she was forbidden to go—which at least for now pretty much included only specialty liquor stores, adult stores and some businesses involving firearms. Not really places she was intending to go to begin with.

With that, Kim decided to walk down to the apartment, as she still enjoyed stretching her legs, being able to walk as far as she wanted being something of a novelty, after all. The apartment building had a small office next to it, and Kim poked her head in.

"Hello?" The older lady working the back office came out.

"Oh, hello, you're…" She blinked, "Kim Possible?"

"Um, yeah." Kim said.

"Oh Good Heavens… do you remember me? I was in that aerial tram you saved in Rio!" Kim racked her brain. Rio… Rio…

"Oh, when Dementor was trying to use the power grid of the city… yeah!" She grinned, "Sorry about your tour…"

"Oh, I had more fun…well after I stopped screaming… then I've ever had on a trip." Kim grinned at that.

"I screamed a little too." The lady nodded, her white hair catching the light.

"So, they finally came to their senses and let you out."

"Um, yeah, on parole."

"Hmph. They never should have put you in."

"I released…"

"Yes, and you would have caught him again, too." The made a dismissive gesture. "They let _multiple murderers_ cut deals with the state, they should have let you cut one as well." She shook her head, "Anyway, you're out now, and that's what counts." Kim nodded, as the lady continued, "So, what brings you here?"

"I was wondering…you have an apartment for rent?" The lady took a look at the ad, and nodded.

"Oh yes!" She said, brightening. "You want to stay here? Wonderful!" She paused, "I beg pardon—my manners completely deserted me—I'm Millicent." Kim nodded, feeling slightly out of breath as the woman then, in a energy driven bustle that reminded her (with a brief pang) of her Nana, moved to check her credit (which passed), her references (also passed) and her estimated time of stay. Kim frowned, thinking and then put herself down for a years lease.

"So, what will you be doing?" Millicent asked. Kim smiled.

"I'll be looking for a job, first." She said.

"With that credit rating?" Millicent asked, "According to the computer, you have more than enough…well, compared to the cost of living _here_." She paused, "I wouldn't intrude on your privacy by asking it for any more information." Kim blinked. That was another thing she'd heard from the mall….

"Millicent…can I ask a question?"

"Of course, dear."

"When I was in jail… I was kinda restricted on what I could read or listen too." Kim said. Actually, she had been pretty well completely cut off—the restrictions on information were pretty well draconian for the inhabitants of Supermax, with a whole _list _of things they couldn't read, or ask, about. About the only thing they were allowed to keep up to date on was the legal profession, and since Kim never tried to contest her conviction, she never had much cause to haunt the law library. Kim shook her head and continued, "But everyone mentions privacy here—but they have floating eyeballs at the _mall_."

"And cameras at every street corner dear…just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there." Millicent said. "Did you hear about what happened in London, as well as Los Angeles, Chicago and Philadelphia?" Kim nodded soberly…no censorship had been able to keep _that_ news from them. In fact, one of the prisoners, an older man serving a life sentence had volunteered and been accepted to test the vaccine. Kim had volunteered as well, but had been refused. Only lifers were considered for that particular case of being human guinea pigs.

"So we've decided that being watched isn't as bad as we thought it might be..as long as it's controlled." Millicent paused, "They can't track someone, without a warrant."

"And people _believe_ that?"

"Oh yes, dear—all the cameras are fed into a hard coded ROM unit—it data stamps everyone who accessed it, and if it's pulled or modified it melts down." She smiled, "So it's impossible to illegally use the system."

Kim, with her acquaintance with Wade, reserved judgment on that last. She'd have to talk to him before long. With that, Millicent provided Kim with her "Key", actually a biometric scan that insured the lock would open only to her key, when it was in _her_ hand, or those she issued to authorized guests. Kim thanked her and found her apartment, on the second story.

The apartment was nice, with a living room, kitchen, dining room and two bedrooms. Kim had to admit her mother had taste…but on the other hand, _her _name wasn't on the lease… Kim's was. That caused her to pause before stepping into the room…but then she got a smile and walked in, feeling almost ceremonial as she crossed the threshold. Flumping down on the couch Kim looked around, and thought about going and getting her clothes from home. Then she shook her head. She could do that tonight—right now she had momentum, and she didn't want to dissipate it by engaging in a moving in process that would take the rest of the day. Nope, step one had been accomplished—now for step two, finding a job.

* * *

Yori returned to the mansion, finding that Ron was in the Dojo. She sighed. No doubt taking out some frustration on synthodrones. That wasn't the case, she found, as she walked down, and found Ron, deep in conversation with a fifty something man in a business suit. Of course, he _wasn't_ a businessman, and Wade's face on the monitor looked more than a little annoyed.

"How did you find this out?" The twenty something technological wizard asked.

"Old fashioned HUMINT, kid…" Under close cropped graying hair, a pair of blue eyes narrowed in amusement, "You're getting too good for your own good—did you think they'd _never_ twig on to the fact that their 'secure' coms were anything but?"

"I'd hoped…"

"Yeah, so had I." He said. "Hello Yori." He continued, without turning around. Yori frowned. _Some_day, she was going to sneak up on him.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel-san." She said. "Your SOG (special operations group) is very fortunate."

"Yeah, well, _I'm _fortunate to have em…sure you don't want to stop freelancing."

"I like the independence…and lack of a dress code." Yori said.

"Which brings us here." Ron said, "Samuel has a bit of a problem he thinks we might be able to handle." Yori felt an oncoming head ache. SOG groups didn't fear mere danger… so it meant that Samuel was here to talk about magic, or politics… or both. He anticipated her question.

"Politics, I'm afraid. Ron, my boy, you've made some enemies with your… hardball tactics on the Hill." Ron didn't bother to deny it. "In fact, there are some who believe that anyone who would reveal that one of the paragons of morality in Congress also enjoyed dressing up in a tutu, Frankenstein mask, and playing Nurse with his intern, has harmed the dignity of the august institution." Ron raised an eyebrow.

"And that's why we are officially supposed to keep hands off the Genetic Liberation Front." Yori blinked.

"_They_ are what we're talking about?" Granted, she didn't like them—nobody liked suddenly having blood spattered on them on the way to a movie, as she and Ron had…and more importantly, the people _doing_ the spattering hadn't realized how lucky they were—if Ron and Yori had been just a _little_ less observant, they might have mistook the attack for a serious one…with potentially deadly consequences. But still…the GLF had never gone in for actual _violence_ before.

"Fine, so what are they doing now? Releasing a flock of chickens at one of the Bueno Nachos? Streaking a scholarship ceremony?" Ron asked. His voice didn't hold much hope for that…such events wouldn't even come close to interesting SOGC.

"How about releasing a gene tailored virus against your new crop lines in Africa and Asia?" Samuel waited, and it was almost ten seconds before Ron said a thing. When he did, it was in a torrent of profanity that lasted nearly two minutes before he even got himself partially under control.

"All the lines?"

"We don't know." Samuel said. Ron paused, then breathing heavily, started speaking.

"Those crop lines are diverse and genetically healthy, they're resistant to natural pests, so the people don't have to use pesticides they can't afford, and they _don't _destroy the soil like over fertilization does… and we developed and sold them _at cost_…. What _conceivable _reason would they have to attack them?"

"They're GE, which means evil…and in any case obviously you're a big company so you're evil so this is part of an insidious campaign to enslave the hard working peasants?"

"As opposed to what… starve them?" Ron said, and his voice was flat, which neither Yori nor Samuel mistook for calm. "And have the people in congress who don't like me considered the fact that if those idiots release a virus strain, there is no guarantee that it would only go after the gene-mod crops…or that even if it _did_, we'd be talking a famine _at least_ on the level of Somalia?" Samuel shook his head.

"Don't beat yourself up too hard, Kid—intel suggests that the number of distinct strains your people developed would prevent a 100 crop die off, more likely 30-40... which will still see a lot of people hungry…and make some people here lots of money." Ron looked over at the monitor.

"Fine—where are they?"

"No killing." Samuel said, "They haven't killed anyone yet…and in any case, I'd be remiss in not reminding you that most of them are young college students, which means too much brains, and not nearly enough common sense…"

"Fine. What about scaring?"

"That's more than permissible."

"Good." Ron looked over at him, "So now that that is settled, where are they?"

"Down town LA."

"You've _got_ to be kidding."

"Nope."

"Crap."

* * *

Kim's high spirits started to flag as she walked the streets of Middleton. She didn't want a fast food job—working for Ned had been bad enough, but she realized with a shock that most of the managers were _younger_ than she was.

Nope, not at a fast food place.

Unfortunately, Kim couldn't really think of any place she was overly qualified _to_ work in. She'd had a BA, it was true, but that was in math. Kim had honestly done that more for something to do…and she'd taken many other courses (those approved of by the prison administration), but mainly to keep from going more crazy than she had been. She'd never actually worried about getting any more degrees, and in any case, she had no practical experience in, well…anything.

"Except cheerleading and saving the world." She muttered. She was too old for one…and the conditions of her parole forbade the other. The unbidden memory of her fight with Ron rose again, and she shoved it to the back of her mind.

But fast food…or clerking… well maybe clerking.

If there wasn't anything else. She didn't even know half the new computer programs she saw in the window of a software store, and that kinda put secretarial out the window. Kim's wanderings had taken her in the direction of Middleton High…and as she turned the corner, there it was.

MEAT LOVERS CLUB MEETING POSTPONED. The school announcement board read. Underneath it a smaller set of words also read: Condolences to the 4H club Hog Raising Team. Kim shook her head in affection at that. Still with the same old screwy signs.

It was lunch, and the kids were racing to eat somewhere, anywhere, other than the cafeteria. Kim heard some of their comments, not that they made a great deal of sense.

"…so after I resequenced him, he's a lot nicer… you understand…"

"I don't care if he's as fake as a synthodrone, he's cute…"

"Oh man, the teacher totally Jamisoned me…."

OK, she knew the words, but not the context…although she could tell generally if what was being said was a good thing, or a bad thing.

"Geez, I sound like my parents." Kim said. Her half thought out plan to see if she could talk to Bonnie was discarded. Not yet. Not until she had firmer ground under her feet. The school would only remind her of everything that had changed. But so long as she was traveling down memory lane…

It didn't take much longer for Kim to get to her old Pre-K. She smiled, looking at it, the kids playing on the jungle gym…the help wanted sign…

"No way." Kim said. That would be too weird. On the other hand… why not? She'd done a ton of babysitting… She stood in indecision for a moment, then nodding her head, strode towards the doors of the pre-school.

* * *

"How is Kim doing?" Samuel asked, as Ron went over the intelligence. Wade had delinked, trying to find some way into any electronic networks they may have established.

"Fine…" Ron said, "She's fitting right in."

"But not here." Samuel commented, "Had a disagreement about training, missions or both, right?" Ron looked up, frowning. The Colonel was nearly twice his age and was one of the few who could read him…like an open book.

"Yeah, a few disagreements… Yori is going to get her back up to speed."

"So she can break her parole?" Ron shook his head.

"No, but Kim's general response to a obstacle is to…"

"Go around it?"

"Go around it hell, she'll send in sappers and blow it sky high." Ron said. Yori was no longer in the chamber, having left to pre-flight the _Wraith_.

"Um…maybe not a good idea."

"I know, but Yori had a _real_ good point—trying to roadblock Kim might just lead to her trying…without the skills."

"Not what I meant." Samuel said. "Look, Ron… you and I've worked together, so I won't bullshit you. Kim loved you, fine—maybe she still does, but upshot was, she broke an enemy of the United States' out of jail, injured federal officers and may, just may have cost us a city or two, if he hadn't been caught. You know what happened to Jaimison."

Ron nodded. The SEAL team had verified who he was, including a test for a Synthodrone or clone double, and then had quite efficiently put several bullets in his head. The body had been returned to the CDC to insure that it _was_ his body. Samuel frowned and looked back to make sure Yori was still with the _Wraith_.

"There was serious consideration given to solving our Kim Possible problem in the same exact manner." He said, and quickly made the hand gesture of someone firing a gun—in the same posture he would use to shoot a kneeling person in the head. "Lots of people pointed out that whatever our good judges or the hearts and flowers brigade were thinking, and even though it saved you, Kim had pretty openly committed Treason…and there's one penalty for that." Ron paused, very carefully. Samuel was a friend, but Ron had no doubts that if ordered, he would have killed Kim…

"So why are your bringing this up now?" Ron said.

"Because I'm a friend. As long as Kim Possible keeps her nose clean, doesn't get involved in anything dicey, nobody's going to get…nervous. But if her name starts popping up in reports, some people at Foggy Bottom, CIA and the E Ring might start considering that they still have that very simple solution at hand." Ron shook his head.

"I can't tell her no, Samuel…I can try, but believe me, I've been reminded just how hard it can be to get her to stop." He paused, "Good news, I don't know if she really _wants_ to get back in the game." He shrugged, "Yori thinks that maybe she just wants to see if she can do it again."

"That'd be wise…" Ron turned and considered.

"You know, Samuel, that if someone decided to try to take Kim down…I'd kind of be a given."

"I know. That's why I'm telling you this. You've done a hell of a lot of good…and I'd hate to see things…get ugly."

_And he'd hate to kill me._ Ron thought. Not that it would stop him. On the other hand, Samuel was flexible…

"Fine. She won't be ready for a while, but how about keeping her close."

"What?"

"They're worried that She'll do some stunt like what she pulled, right?"

"Right." Ron shook his head in annoyance.

"After all the good she did…including those little missions that get got from No Such Agency." Ron frowned. He hadn't realized for years that they'd been an unknowing team for both the NSA and CIA. _Team hell, stalking horse and walking distraction was more like it._

"Hey, if you're going to start talking to a _government_ about its moral responsibility you are a lot more naïve then I thought." Samuel said. Ron shook his head.

"No, but if she's under observation…. Like say, with the SOG."

"You want to put a felon…_Kim Possible_ in the SOG?"

"Not active, but once Yori gets her up to speed, run her through the course up at Fort Bragg."

"And that helps?"

"One, you owe me, and it buys time. Two, she may not _want_ to continue—nothing like the Fort Bragg course to let you know that we aren't dealing with Drakken anymore. Three, if after all is said and done, she still wants in… I _know_ that you have the pull to get her assigned to a SOG team, or get clearance to have her work with me…without blowing parole."

"You're kidding." Samuel looked at Ron. "No, you aren't kidding…you're _insane."_

"I'm stuck with a nemesis who believes in magical monkey power." Samuel didn't know about the sword, and if he did, he'd be honor bound to report it immediately. So, as far as he knew, Monkey Fist was a lunatic. "Let's just say the craziness kinda rubbed off on me."

"And now you want it to rub off on me."

"Hey, just consider the fun you'll have pitching it. Besides… it isn't the first time an SOG would have had an… interesting membership." Samuel thought about it, and considered.

"It may work…if she wants in. But Ron, you'll have to tell her, with her history, if she gets in and _then _decides to go off on some wild stunt…there won't be a second chance, or a warning." Not a threat, Ron knew, Samuel was just speaking the truth.

"I will, if it gets to that point…which I hope like hell it won't." Ron paused, "I don't want Kim to ever worry about anything more dangerous than a paper cut, but…"

"But that's not your call. I understand." He paused, and grinned, "and from the way you're talking, I bet you _didn't_ understand."

"Let's just say Yori helped enlighten me." Ron said. With that, they turned as Yori came in.

"The _Wraith _is ready, Ron…are you coming with us, Colonel-san?"

"How could I, Yori?" Samuel asked, "I was never here."

TBC.


	13. XII

_  
And they went to the rock to hide their face  
But the rock cried out  
No hiding place  
There's no hiding place  
Down here._

And the Rock Cried out, "No Hiding Place_."_ American Gospel song, popularized by the United States Marine Corps after the 2010 terrorist attacks.

* * *

Kim walked into the pre-K center. It was different from when she'd been there, of course—it had been different before she'd gone to prison. The front office was the same, save for the wall screens making it look like it was on the veldt in Africa, with a young woman sitting behind a desk.

"Hello." She said.

"Hi." Kim said, smiling uncertainly, "I'm here for the job…"

"Oh Good!" She said happily. "Let me call up Ms. Michael's." moments later, she looked back up to Kim and nodded. "The office is back, fourth door from the right." Kim smiled, more naturally. At least they hadn't changed the office placement.

Ms. Michael turned out to be an older, grandmotherly looking woman, who immediately realized who Kim was. She got a smile on her face and nodded at Kim.

"Hello." She said, and Kim nodded at the lady, and shook her hand.

"So, you're here for the job." She continued.

"Yes… I mean, I don't really know what it involves, beyond helping out…but yeah." Kim said, kicking herself. Well, it had been ten years since she'd last interviewed for a job.

"Well, in the beginning, that's all you'd be doing—we prefer to start people as aids, no matter their professional, or lack thereof, qualifications. A person can have every certificate in the book and be horrible with children…or none and be great with them." She paused. "Of course, if you stayed with us, you'd eventually start picking up courses on child development and teaching—we have a relationship with Upperton University for that." Kim blinked at that. Ms. Michael smiled at her expression. "Why not? One of the major requirements for any sort of credential is working with children, and we figured that if you come here when _you're_ in college, we could also have you _go_ to college while you work here."

"Oh…" Kim said. "Well, how do I get recommendations?" She paused at that. _Given that my last job was ten years ago. I wonder if Marla would tell her what a model prisoner I've been._

"Well, first of all, you have to release your records to us…have you done this before?" Kim shook her head. Marla pointed to a pad on the computer, a discrete box. "Put your hand on it." Kim did and the machine beeped obediently. "Now see the screen?" Kim nodded, "Touch the point that says 'release job history', and it will let me look at it." Looking at the box, Kim looked over at Michael.

"You can just download all my information?" Ms. Michael shook her head.

"Not all, just what you release—and the unit keeps the information—that's something we get from the Chamber of Commerce." She smiled, "Oh, you could say, take a picture of the screen, but as far as _my_ computer's concerned, your information doesn't exist. It's stored in there-" she pointed at the small box, " and it's a class A felony to attempt to hack or dismantle it, in addition to making it scramble its insides." Kim shook her head.

"It wasn't this big a deal at the apartment." She said.

"Oh, you're renting? Well, the apartment doesn't have the right to ask about more than your credit rating, and a few, a _very _few other things…like were you kicked out for setting your last apartment on fire." She smiled, " A job app, _especially _here, requires…a more indepth check." A few seconds later, it pinged and she nodded.

"It looks good—but you'll have to notify your parole agent to sign off on it." Kim nodded. She remembered that part of her parole included the requirement that she not take a job without approval—and apparently the _idiot savant computers_ were making certain she didn't forget.

"I'll give him a call tomorrow." Kim said.

"Very well—dear, when he signs off, you can start work…"

"No interview?" Michael smiled and shook her head. "In this case…no. I remember you dear and I think I'll trust my gut on this one." She paused, "Well, tomorrow is Thursday, and I don't like the new help to run screaming for the hills, so we _won't_ start you on Friday…the children know the weekend's coming up and they're…energetic."

"You mean hyper?"

"No, I mean like a cluster of Great White sharks that have just smelled blood…and as the new lady, you'll be the side of beef." Kim thought of the Tweebs and earlier, her own experience of babysitting and resisted the temptation to say she could do it. But that did bring something up. She'd been thinking about the pay—her demand to live on her own was one thing…but these people probably could use the money for something else…

"Um… about pay…"

"Oh, we start at a competitive pay grade…" Kim shook her head.

"That's not it… I mean, I really don't need-" Michael's cut her off with a chopped hand.

"Dear, you do."

"I do?" Kim asked.

"Yes. Because even if you're richer than God, you are worth something." She paused, "And if you are working for us, your _time_ is worth something." A curiously sad smile touched her face, "I remember you working at Bueno Nacho, running every odd job in the town because your other activities kept you from holding down a regular job." She laughed, "You didn't remember me, because you almost never saw me, but I knew Bonnie's mother. You should have charged—not much, but I think one of the reasons you got called so much was people came to take you for granted…like they do everything they don't have to pay for." She reached down and pulled up a small book. "Here's the procedures of the school."

"Small…" Kim said.

"You've never used smart paper? Than I'll let you get acquainted."

"Something else that popped up the day after I went to prison?" Kim asked. She was hoping that at some point, the changes would stop coming. Ms. Michael shook her head.

"No, _this_ is pretty new—for now it's mainly used at schools and colleges, but it's getting popular…you'll enjoy it."

* * *

The _Wraith_ was on course for LA, and Ron was sitting, tense in his cockpit seat. Yori could tell. He had the Lotus blade in his hand, turning it from form to form, frowning at it. This wasn't good.

"Ron." Yori said, "Are you going to… get overly vengeful?"

"Vengeful? Why would I ever do that? Just because a bunch of over fed college kids with enough money to feed a town, and new cars daddy bought for them have unilaterally decided that they want to bring back the good old days of starvation… and they don't even have the courage to _look_ their victims in the eye…" he paused, and his own eyes were flat, "No, why should I _possibly_ be feeling vengeful."

"They are just kids… like you." Yori said.

"I grew up." Ron said, "And if these _kids _want to play with people's lives, well, than, welcome to the real world." He paused and changed the subject, "We're coming up over the Central Air Command." Yori nodded.

"Stealth is working."

"Yeah." Ron said, "and no sign of a reaction." He wasn't tense, much, but they both knew that if their stealthed vehicle was detected, the Air Force wouldn't bother with a warning shot.

"A pity we cannot have clearance."

"Kinda hard to pretend you don't know about a mission if you've given it clearance." Ron said. "Let's double check the Radtabs, just in case those idiots are in a hot pocket." Yori nodded, but looked at Ron out of the corner of her eye. He was visibly armoring himself, taking on a persona Kim would have never recognized.

_ But how long before the Persona you don becomes you? How long before the Role **Becomes** the man?

* * *

_

Kim had walked back to her (_her!)_ apartment, opened up the blinds and sat down. She still had hours of daylight, and enough time to get everything from her parent's house. Time to examine the book. She fiddled with the book and then blinked. It felt like paper, it folded like paper… but she could change the words—touch a point on the paper, and the book print shifted and shimmered into other worlds and pictures. None of them were color, but still…

"Man this would have saved a lot of backache," Kim said, thinking of all the text books she'd had to carry. She quickly got the hang of it, and started flipping through the book.

It was about what she expected. Diets, how to calm a screaming child, the school policies, how to help out the teachers. She got down to the section where it was talking about emergency procedures.

_What to do if a kid's sick._ Kim thought, reading it. It was there, but there was also... She blinked and sat up straight.

_CBR PROCEDRURES _

_Upon an alert, either from law enforcement or onsite sensors, of a Chemical, Biological or Radiological event, the school is immediately to go into lock down. Positive overpressure is to be activated no matter the initial level of alarm, and the Middleton Emergency Operations Office is to be notified, as is CENTCOM Emergency Civilian Affairs Office. _

_Any children outside at the instance of contamination are to immediately be placed in Individual Protective Isolation Units (see section 2.1 for technical specifications), and isolated from the other children. Should interior contamination be detected ALL children are to be placed into IPIUs. _

_UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD UNPROTECTED PERSONNEL ATTEMPT TO REMOVE CHILDREN OR ASSIST THEM. You may be endangering yourself, emergency personnel, and the children. Wait until you have donned your own protective gear. _

_Children may not be removed from the site before an all clear has been given and they are confirmed to be clean by qualified personnel. Parents MAY NOT remove children. Remember, toxins and biological, or radiological agents may not immediately demonstrate symptoms. By permitting children to be removed, not only is the child placed at risk but all around him or her. _

Kim blinked and skipped on down. The next section wasn't much better.

_BOMB OR ARMED INTRUSION PROCEDURES._

She skipped the first couple of pages, coming to another section that caused her to feel cold.

_It is possible that car or suicide bombs may be timed to catch evacuating personnel, or emergency units (c.f. __Washington__DC, __Seattle__WA__), and as such the situation cannot be considered safe until emergency personnel have swept the area. Remain on the look out for any individuals that may be evaluating the area, or are simply behaving in an atypical way…_

Kim put the book down, looked at it, and then nodded. The wallscreen of the living room doubled as a phone screen and she remembered the number. Now, if only he was still there. A moment later, the screen rezzed into a black man, working in a lab.

"Kim!" He said, his voice deeper than Kim remembered. "Finally calling me, or did I just bore you on the screen at Ron's."

"Hi Wade." Kim said. "I thought you were a little busy."

"What, those Neo-Stalin types?" He laughed, "Not even…what's going on, Kim… I see you have a new place!"

_Same old Wade—probably about ten years ahead of everyone else…which is what I need._

"Wade…do you have some time?"

"Sure do, for you…what's going on?"

"Well, I'm feeling out of touch, so I wondered if you could help me."

"With what?"

"Explaining why the book for my old Pre-K, has a section that reads like a chemical warfare training course." Wade looked at her and sighed.

"That's…gonna take some explaining." Kim nodded.

"I have some time."

_To be continued._


	14. XIII

Author notes:

Posse Comitatus Act: This act was put in place after Reconstruction and largely forbids the direct participation of the Military in law enforcement. This is why modern day America has state and local counter terrorism units instead of using military units as many other nations do. The Act was repealed after 2010.

CENTCOM:

Central Command is a United States military commend set up after Kim went to prison, handling internal defense and counter terrorism. As such, it has airmobile assets, heavily oriented towards urban and counter terrorism combat. It has a number of sub commands, one for every state, plus several for territories, and no major city is more than 20 minutes from at least company level ready reaction forces. CENTCOM is heavily oriented towards elite soldiers and many SWAT teams include CENTCOM members, both to insure continuity in training and tactics, and to give CENTCOM soldiers experience with handling civilian style emergencies in addition to their counter terrorism duties.

* * *

Shadows and Illumination

"This is an FAA warning to all aircraft. The Los Angeles Radiological Quarantine Zone is off limits to all civilian overflights. Zone violators may be shot down without warning. Intrusion is a felony, punishable by up to five years in prison and confiscation of assets." Yori turned off the automatic beacon.

"Presuming you survive the fall, that is." She said.

"True." Ron commented, "But better than idiots sightseeing and kicking the dust up." Yori had her head bent down, looking at the readouts.

"Radiation is very low, Ron." She said, "Some hotspots in and around the larger buildings…" _Where the dust had a chance to settle…_ Yori didn't other to add. The amalgamate of radioactive material and mercury had quite effectively rendered nearly a quarter of downtown LA off limits, and even with the best nanotech, decontamination was a slow process. Ron expected that by the time they were completely finished, probably a decade would have gone by. Ron looked out at the setting sun. It would be dark out soon…

"Yori, lets start looking for any power taps… I'll bet our friends haven't bothered to set up their own power generator."

"Very well, Ron." Yori said, all business.

* * *

"OK" Wade said, He'd actually turned off some gadgets in his lab. Kim noticed that he'd outgrown his room… vaguely, she wondered if he'd conquered his acrophobia.

"OK." Wade repeated, "You know about 2010, of course." Kim nodded. There might be someone, somewhere who didn't remember the July attacks…but she didn't know where you would find them.

"We weren't _that_ cut off, Wade." Kim said.

"But you were in some ways—you _heard_ about the attacks…" Wade paused, "But you didn't see." Abruptly the twenty-two year old looked haunted. Kim realized that he _had_ seen…more than he wanted to. "Fifty thousand dead in England… _one hundred thousand_ dead here. Four major cities off limits… radiation in LA and London, Philadelphia…genetically augmented anthrax in Chicago." Wade shook his head again. "We didn't think it could happen again, not after everything we put up…but I guess if you want to kill badly enough, you'll find a way."

"I know…" Kim said, and Wade cut her off.

"I know you do, Kim, but like I said, you didn't _see._ The news was full time about it, nobody had a clue if there were other bombs ready to go off….and radiation and plague don't kill fast, or clean. Even in cities that hadn't been hit, the hospitals were clogged, because Anthrax looks a lot like the flu in the early stages." Kim suddenly felt a little guilt. If she hadn't been in jail…

C_ould I have helped?_

"But that wasn't the worst." Kim blinked. She hadn't heard this part…had there been another attack? Wade caught her expression, and shook his head.

"Not another attack Kim…what we were thinking of doing. Remember, I…snoop and since I work for GJ I have a high clearance."

"And what was it?" Kim said. Wade paused and continued.

"Kim, people were so infuriated, so scared…it wasn't just the editorials talking about 'problems' and "final solutions', it was the government as well. They were retargeting missiles, getting ready to _exterminate_ them, down to the smallest child… we… we stepped back, but I don't ever want to see us come that close again." Kim didn't say anything.

_Final solution_? She thought. That was an old nightmare…one she'd never think the U.S. would consider, but here was Wade, on the screen in her nice apartment talking about it.

"But you didn't." Wade nodded.

"No, we didn't…maybe we wouldn't have, maybe what happened after had something to do with it." They both paused at that. Even without direct link TV or internet links, Kim had heard about that in prison. The triumph of the terrorists had not been long in duration—and their end _hadn't_ come from the U.S.—it had come from their fellows, who turned on those who had so long desecrated their religion. They'd been hunted down, savagely, and the U.S. had merely watched, knowing that there could be no greater punishment than letting them _know_ that all their works would be cast down by their fellows.

"But why now?" Kim asked, "If they're gone…why all of this?" Wade sighed.

"The big organizations are gone, Kim." Wade said, "But not what they taught everyone…"

* * *

"You're right, Ron." Yori said, "There's a tap on the central trunk line." She sighed, "Not even well shielded." A holographic indicator bloomed showing a ghostly image of one of the skyscrapers. "They're here—inside the skyscraper core… little radiation of any type."

"Very good." Ron said, in an emotionless voice. "We'll go from the top."

"Ah…yes." Yori said. Ron was acting the same way he'd… she shook her head. Maybe not.

Looking down, she saw the flashes of emergency vehicles. Fewer than she'd seen last time. Not surprising. Some of the systems had probably burned out. Nobody stood in those dusty vehicles, the environmentally friendly, solar powered emergency lights (trust California to be in the forefront, she thought), flashing their lonely warning to empty streets, paper and debrie swirling around in the dry wind. They'd been hopelessly contaminated in the attack, and in a nation struggling to handle the _human_ casualties, it was decided to just leave them. One day, they'd be scrapped when the last of the region was decontaminated, or else possibly placed in memorials. There were no bodies in them… even lethal doses of radiation took time to kill, and the many firefighters and police who had perished had still had time to get out and be taken to hospitals, for all the good it did.

_I wonder if you realized how likely it was that you were signing your own death warrants when you refused the orders to pull back out of the contaminated zone. Could I have done as you did?_ It was a question Yori often asked herself. One thing to fight and stop people when you had your skill and equipment…but when you _knew_ death was sleeting through your body? Yes, Yori often asked it, and said prayers for the men and women who had answered that question for themselves at the Buddhist shrine she always set up wherever she lived.

Often asked…and never quite certain what her answer would be, if the moment ever came.

* * *

Inside, the three students were crouched over the DNA sequencer, waiting until a new batch was cloned up and ready to go. Shelly was bouncing on her heels, the 18 year old college student barely able to contain her glee. _This_ would teach those who would interfere with the natural order of things to keep their hands to the- There was a subdued click, and she turned and saw a silver ball roll into the room.

_That's a- There_ was a bright flash and BOOM and all three screamed and dodged back, before two figures appeared in the room. Shelly's hands were effortlessly slapped aside, and she felt a hiss and cold sensation at her neck, before she passed out.

* * *

"What they taught?" Kim said. Wade nodded.

"Yeah… the United States and England were pretty much brought to their knees…by less than a hundred people, Kim…" Wade paused, "And it kinda set the bar higher—if you wanted to be a big time bad guy…well blowing up a few planes just didn't do it anymore." He shook his head.

"But there haven't been many-" Kim bit off the sentence. How many was "not many" more, when you were talking about bombs and sarin agents? Wade nodded reading her mind.

"That's the problem, Kim…technology—I mean in the old days, a guy with a pistol could hurt a few people, but not a city—but now, you can whip up a hell plague with some know how and equipment you can find in any hospital—equipment that's _needed_ to help people." Wade sighed. "So we have to get proactive—I don't' think there's ever been so many special forces soldiers, compared to regular army, and the Posse Comitatus Act is dead, dead, dead."

"And we have cameras everywhere." Kim said, some bitterness in her voice.

"Yeah, well that was starting even before you went to prison, Kim." Wade said, "But yeah, today I doubt there's a single street in Middleton that doesn't feed into the police or CENTCOM." He shrugged, "It's helped—there's been a few would be bombers who were caught, and-"

"What about everyone's privacy?" Kim said. "What about-"

"What privacy?" Wade asked her. "You never had a right to privacy in a public place…this just makes it easier to watch." He sighed and shook his head. "I know Kim… but even in the old days, you could get a wire tap on someone, and we have laws now to try and keep people from playing spy. " He got a sudden grin on his face, "Like my contribution—the 'glass house' law." Kim blinked.

"Mom talked about that…you did it?"

"Yep—what better way to keep people from snooping than the risk that all _their_ dirty laundry will be on TV?" Wade said, and then sobered. "Kim, I know that some people believe we shouldn't have…but we've never had to deal with threats like this before…and better to pass some laws, make some changes now…instead of waiting until we get some hideous attack and everyone rushes to pass worse laws in the heat of the moment." Kim frowned, unconvinced.

"Has it helped?" Wade nodded.

"A bit…here, I'll show you the records…not the classified stuff, but the news doesn't carry a lot of it anymore."

"Oh?" Kim blinked.

"Not since people found some terrorists with files on how to best make certain you would get in the news." Wade paused, "So they report on it…but not like they used to. No news agency wants to see their name on some captured paperwork saying who will be easiest to have carry their message." He hit a switch. "Here you go."

* * *

Shelly woke up, her head pounding, and felt her arms pulled tight behind her, her two companions equally tied up. Tom was struggling, but her boyfriend was helpless in the bonds, like she was. The two figures, completely covered in nanomorph suits, were bent over their computer. Shelly let a smile hit her face. The computer had both biomorphic and codeword interlocks…they'd _never_ find out it's secrets. Evidently, the intruders agreed, as they rose and turned around. Their eyes were exposed, nothing more, the shorter female's eyes Asian in cast and the taller one with…

Shelly shivered. They were brown eyes, but no mercy…or any other emotion was in them. They didn't even have the empathy of anger… more like a mechanic considering a piece of malfunctioning equipment.

"We cannot access the computer." The male said, and the voice if anything was even colder than the eyes. "You will give us the code."

"Oh really?" Tom said. "What makes you think we're going to-AIIIGGGHHHH!" His bonds were evidently capable of delivering a shock, as his body arched, muscles helplessly locked against the energy.

"Stop it!" Shelly screamed. The figure simply looked over at her and made no motion to comply. "You're killing him!" A moment later, Tom sagged, unconscious. The other student, Dave, looked on, horrified.

"No." The figure said. "If I choose to kill him, you will know it then." No emotion, no anger. No….nothing. The figure walked towards her, and she found herself trying to scoot the chair back, to no avail. If anything, his companion looked…concerned, eyes shooting between Shelly and him.

"I do not have time to waste. What is your name?"

"Shelly Peters…" She said, for some reason not saying the first thing that came to her mind. Somehow, this was a lot scarier than it had been when she'd read about it, or thought about standing up to authority.

"Very good. Understand this. I have a requirement for information. You will provide it. Since there are three of you, I can kill two and still obtain the information I need…which means in two of the three cases… the question of whether you live or die is up to you."

Shelly tried to speak, but suddenly her voice was catching in her throat.

Yes. Much scarier.

* * *

Wade had gone off to handle a mission for GJ, leaving Kim with the files, and an hour later, she sat back, looking outside her apartment. Wade had, if anything, understated the situation—the United States had a new military command, CENTCOM, which handled domestic counter terrorism and defense. Kim shook her head. When she'd been in high school….

_The idea that Middleton's cops can whistle up an entire company of troops in 30 minutes, more in an hour would be a fantasy._

But it wasn't, and the information Wade had given her…dozens of little, half secret operations against groups and individuals who wanted to strike at society, with bombs and gas, tailored plague and radiation. There wasn't a single major city in the U.S. that _hadn't_ been the site of some nipped-in-the-bud plot. In all to many cases, apparently nipped by the use of public surveillance. Not that that was _entirely _clear—evidently nobody was eager to broadcast exactly how they'd learned of many of the plots publicly. Kim shook her head.

_Hell, maybe it would have been safer in jail. _

There was a subdued beep, and Kim looked up at Wades IM.

_Kim—sorry, something came up…but why don't you go visit Lipsky?_ _You all could talk... in fact, I think you should. Don't worry, it'll be safe._ After that, there was an address.

_Visit Drakken?_ Kim thought. _Well, I'm out of the hero business, and I haven't heard anything about him getting in trouble… _She smiled, _Maybe he'd tell me where Shego got off to…_

TBC.


	15. XIV The Road to Hell

A lot of people have asked about what exactly happened in 2010…and unfortunately, Kim can't tell you, because she really doesn't know, and Ron and Yori honestly have no reason to sit down and talk about it, more than they already have. Rather than have a lot of short vignettes, where people talk about it (kinda like a TV show where a supposedly long serving NCO has to have the concept of "chain of command" Explained to him (really for the TV audience), I desired to find something else.

Fortunately, Wade has both clearance and a desire to aid, and this document arrived in my mailbox yesterday… read it…if you dare, along with some annotations of what Wade thought. .

Note: And if you aren't interested in this, you might just want to skip to the next chapter, as none of this really honestly has much to do with Kim's adventures in the future. The bad guys of 2010 won't make an appearence, and she'll never go to any of the radiological zones-- it's just a way of explaining how we got from 2006 to 2017.

Writing note: I usually write some general notes,but I decided to see if I could pull of the "official goverment speech" style writing. If you find yourself falling asleep, I probably achieved the goal.

* * *

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions..._

Wade frowned at his monitor. Kim was due to get out tomorrow, and no doubt she'd want to know everything… and maybe, just maybe, demand to get back in the game, parole or no. Looking down, a folder caught his eye—the only thing, in fact, in all his room that wasn't some computer document.

No, _this_ document had been typed on an electric typewriter, and hand copied, each copy numbered and identified on every page…and every page of a chemical compound that would disintegrate under a copiers scan. It wasn't fool proof…but it was as close as it could be. Especially given the final little item—every copy differed in small ways—stylistic changes, choices of wording, even a few example events… which made it pretty easy to figure out who had leaked a copy.

Wade sighed. He know a lot about it…but every year it seemed to loom larger. The decisions made in that little innocent case history….

* * *

MOST SECRET

Do not electronically transmit.

Do not copy.

Unauthorized access is punishable by a prison term of no less than

twenty five years and a fine of no less than one million dollars.

A Report on the 2010 attacks and lessons learned.

May 1st, 2013.

North American Military Command Working Group

The July 2nd attacks on the United States were easily the most severe assault on the civilian and military population ever recorded in any nation other than times of formally declared war. This report is to distil a summary record of events during and immediately after the attacks and to make recommendations to the relevant commanding authorities. It should be noted that these recommendations are solely based on perceived military and/or civilian security needs, and do not take into account larger political factors.

**PRE-ATTACK SITUATION**

The attack on the U.S. was marked by superior communications discipline among the enemy forces, due to the over popularization of the United States' intelligence communities ability to listen in on technologically advanced forms of communication. Post-attack interrogations bore out the initial belief that no information regarding the attack had been committed to electronic form, all coordination being carried out by messengers or other low tech methods. The lack of effective HUMINT on the part of the CIA and FBI proved a critical failing and operation BLACKBIRD failed to make effective use of what HUMINT there was. Worst of all, a warning from the Iranian government regarding some information about an incipient terrorist attack was disregarded due to the political hostility between the two governments.

The terrorist forces infiltrated the United States over the course of several months, some from Mexico, but most from Canada, making use of the large immigrant population in the country. It is the conclusion of this report that no United States citizens were involved in the planning or execution for the attack. Unlike previous incidents, the terrorist groups shipped their material into the United States in a few large shipments, rather than many small ones. Had any been discovered, this would have, of course, led to the neutralization of the plot, but with only a few shipments (and we should note: "Large" is a relative term), the likelihood of discovery was minimal.

* * *

Wade shook his head at that. They'd been so confident—hell, he was more confident than anyone else—**no** computer could defeat his abilities. Wade's mouth twisted. 

Of course he'd never considered they might just not **use** computers.

* * *

Beyond the failures in intelligence, the situation wsa not one that tended to give rise to paranoia. The democratic reforms in Saudi Arabia and Pakistan had, if not eliminated, at least drastically reduced terrorist sanctuaries, and the situation in Iraq had stabilized with the formation of a multiparty government in 2009. While insurgent attacks continued, they had declined in both quantity and severity all throughout 2008 and 2009, giving rise to the hope that the insurgency might be on the verge of being defeated. 

**The Attack:**

The attack on the United States and England was composed of three components The first two were physical—enhanced radiation devices, and a biological attack on CHICAGO.

The enhanced radiation devices were of a new design, using technology originally developed by Dr. Drakken (Drew Lipsky) for civilian usage as a part of his plea agreement. Properly used, the ERAD (Enhanced Radiation Activity Device), drastically increased the amount of radioactivity from radioactive material, but also drastically reduced its half life, allowing uranium and other materials to be rendered essentially inert within several months rather than their normal, considerably longer, half life. By 2010 several hundred ERADs were in use, neutralizing atomic waste and decommissioned nuclear warheads.

The terrorist attack utilized a modified form of ERAD, one that over the course of less than an hour, dramatically increased the radiation output of the material (plutonium in all three cases). While being short in duration over the first thirty minutes, most individuals within a one half kilometer radius of the device received lethal or severe doses of radiation. As all three cities attacked utilized more than one ERAD, casualties were severe among both civilians and first responders, many of whom refused orders to pull back out of the danger zone until civilians could be evacuated.

The second stage of the radiological attack was the detonation of several traditional dirty bombs, with cobalt, plutonium and uranium jackets, combined with a mercury coating. These detonations created a larger area of lower level radiation, but the nature of the material, especially the plutonium, proved capable of creating a far more intense radiological environment than had been anticipated by earlier exercises, which presumed that any dirty bombs would be both smaller and less technologically advanced in their construction. It is estimated that as many as 15 thousand American and British citizens perished in the first day, directly from radiological attack.

However, the majority of the casualties suffered by the U.S. came from the anthrax attack on CHICAGO. The strain of anthrax utilized was a modified strain, apparently stolen or purchased from those with access to the old USSR biological weapons program. The Soviet Union had been heavily involved in biological weapons development as the 1979 Sverdlovsk anthrax outbreak which killed as many as several hundred Russian citizens demonstrated. The USSR had continued work on developing more anti-biotic resistant strains, and the ability of the Anthrax organism to encyst itself had implications for long term area denial, as proven by the World War II British testing of Anthrax weapons on Gruinard Island, which was rendered uninhabitable by humans until 1990.

The strain of Anthrax used in the CHICAGO attack had been modified genetically to have a long latency period, with a duration of approximately 5-7 days before first symptoms were noted. In addition, it was _not_ contagious from person to person, which gives credence to the theory that it was a stolen military bioweapon, as such a modification would permit troops to quickly move through areas that had been attacked by the bioweapon without undue fear of contamination. In addition, it was extremely resistant to most commonly used antibiotics, requiring dosages and care which limited the number of patients who could be treated at once. With full hospital facilities, patient mortality (among healthy adults: children and elderly individuals suffered higher rates of mortality) ranged from 15 to 25 percent, but as it occurred, very few patients were able to receive such care, and among them mortality was increased.

The worst aspect of the CHICAGO attack was the long duration before symptoms appeared. This permitted an infection of nearly 250,000 people within the city, many of whom traveled to other locations, giving rise to added panic when the first cases appeared. The timing of these cases, and interrogations of captured terrorist, make it plain that the timing was deliberate—the first anthrax cases were diagnosed within 24 hours of the radiological attacks, and were intended to add to the panic, the terrorists starting dispersal aproximaely one week before the radiological attacks.

The final form of the attack was the use of the internet and targeted computer viruses, not to attack American utilities (which had been prepared for), but to spread chaos and fear, which effects had been badly underestimated by the prior studies.

**The immediate aftermath:**

While local agencies quickly moved to isolate and assist the afflicted regions in PHILADELPHIA and LOS ANGELES, the scale of the problem quickly overwhelmed their abilities. Those who were still mobile, but hopelessly contaminated were moved to holding zones and the first news reports included shots of entire parking lots full of dying workers. This quickly led to small outbreaks of looting and rioting, which were assumed to be controllable. Rumors that there were other attacks planned by air led to a grounding of all civilian flights—a decision which proved unfounded, and diverted vitally needed law enforcement and military units away from the true threat.

The LOS ANGELES and PHILADELPHIA city governments appealed for federal and state aid, which was immediately granted.

* * *

Wadeclosed his eyes. _Here was where the wheels started coming off_, he thought, looking over at a monitor, this one showing some Global Justice operatives being briefed preparatory to a mission. Not his job today. He turned back to the document.

* * *

Unfortunately, since the late 1990's, national guard units had been increasingly tasked with foreign deployments, supporting the regular military. In 2010, most national guard units were either over seas, or had been looted of their most experienced men and best equipment. Those units that were in position mobilized, but the process took more time than was expected, and suffered from a great deal of confusion. Furthermore legal barriers prevented the immediate mobilization of regular army and marine units, which in retrospect, were the best suited to handle the crisis. 

Internet, cable and broadcast news outlets were full of rumors that here were other weapons prepared to go off, that another attack was in the offing. The president prepared to give a speech stating that that was not the case, when the first confirmed cases of Anthrax were discovered in CHICAGO, quickly followed by cases in SAN FRANCISCO, NEW YORK, WASHINGTON, and SAN DIEGO. In all cases, the infected individuals had either passed through CHICAGO, or had come in close contact with someone that had, evidently becoming contaminated from spores carried in the other individuals clothes or hair. (no bonafide cases of human to human contagion have been confirmed).

At this point, the question of how widespread the attack was become paramount. The initial impression, of a large scale biological attack against several cities was adopted as the working assumption, instead of the (correct) assumption that there was one major loci of infection. At this point, CASE MEGIDDO was activated, and all major Federal and State leaders were ordered evacuated to secure locations. Unfortunately, while CASE MEGIDDO had been tested in small scale, it had never been fully implemented, and the strain on governmental command and control networks proved severe, preventing timely information or orders from being transmitted. At this point, much authority devolved upon lower ranking civilian authorities. Worse, the abrupt implementation of CASE MEGIDDO was impossible to disguise, and this transformed incipient panic into full blown panic. 24 hour curfews were declared in all major cities, and by presidential order, all roads were declared off limits to civilian traffic. Unfortunately, the order was enforced in a nearly random manner—in some areas police and the national guard units that had been successfully mobilized were able to maintain control of the roads, while in other areas civilian movements continued unimpeded. In some places, conflict between civil authority and civilians grew to become a serious problem.

48 hours after the initial attacks, a wave of smaller bomb attacks, these ones conventional, were reported across the United States. At least 48 individual attacks occurred, mainly against soft, but vital targets such as hospitals, and morale targets, such as churches (all schools had, of course, been closed by this point). This resulted in the decision by many localities to keep their own officers close at hand, and made transfer of emergency units to the most seriously afflicted regions difficult. In other places, impromptu roadblocks were created by locals, and several riots and outright firefights developed between them and urban refugees.

Chicago was becoming a serious problem—all emergency rooms were hopelessly overwhelmed both by those suffering from anthrax, and those injured in civil disturbances and suffering psychological symptoms of stress—which at first glance might appear to be related to early cases of flu or Anthrax.

At this point, the President made the decision to declare martial law, suspend Habeas Corpus in the United States, and order all civilian authorities to cooperate with the military leadership. Marine and Army commands were activated and ordered into the afflicted areas, and their commanders were cleared to shoot looters and rioters on sight. Fortunately, most commanders interpreted these instructions correctly and only used lethal force as a last resort. The armed force's CBW assets were mobilized and sent into Chicago, and evacuation centers were set up.

**The internet war.**

72 hours after the first attacks, there was cautious cause for optimism. While disorder reigned in most of the United States and all business, with the exception of vital utilities, had been brought to a stand still, no further attacks had been made.

However, all major netnews feeds, CNN, FOX, ABCNEWS, all started reporting that the anthrax was a cover for a far more deadly strain of smallpox and that individuals claiming to be refugees, were in actuality suicide agents, spreading the plague. A list of symptoms were provided with this—symptoms that could apply to nearly any form of mild cold or hysterical reaction. When contacted, it was learned that the news pages had been hacked by parties unknown, who were also involved in spreading other rumors, each one more outrageous than the last, across the internet. Among them were claims that the military was actually rounding up infected individuals to be killed, and that there were more weapons in major cities, which would soon be detonated.

Immediate denials were made, both by net and traditional broadcast medium, but to a nation already traumatized by the last three days, they were all too believable. Massive exoduses, far larger than before, began from all major cities. In most cases, national guard and police agencies were completely unequal to the task of maintaining the evacuation cordons. .

The long suffering CBW and radiological units in CHICAGO, PHILADELPHIA and LOS ANGELES were forced to make do with what they had, as the government kept all remaining assets ready to respond to any other attacks. Hospitals, already strained, were forced to also adapt to the danger of being attacked by mobs, convinced that they were already infected by the fictitious illness. Riots and looting broke out and spread over most major cities and several medium and small cities, and little help was available. U.S. military assets over seas were ordered to immediately return, starting with infantry units and a total mobilization of all reserve units was also ordered. Most of the initial returning units were immediately broken up to assist with disaster relief and civil policing duties.

False alarms and malicious hoaxes (some carried out by criminals, others possibly carried out by sleeper agents), led to a growing belief among the civilian population that the entire United States was contaminated. Massive population movements now began, heading into Canada and Mexico. Both governments provided all possible aid and Mexico especially strained themselves to the limit providing food and shelter for over 250,000 refugees who crossed the border.

By this time, the need for further CBW teams was obvious—the situations in LOS ANGELES and PHILADELPHIA were not yet contained, and the situation in the CHICAGO area was, quite honestly desperate. Even those teams not in the affected areas were suffering exhaustion, running from false alarm to false alarm. The damage to hospitals and fire services added the further burden of unrelated emergencies, and in many cases prevented local agencies from aiding.

In this case, it was decided that the United States would need to request aid—however, the traditional allies in Europe were being strained by coping with the London attack. The U.S. requested, and received CBW aid from Japan, Australia, Taiwan, Israel and the Peoples Republic of China. That last was ironically the first to arrive, as a Chinese carrier group centered on the CVH _Sun Tzu_ had been conducting exercises off the West Coast and the embarked PLA complement included biological and chemical warfare containment teams, which were immediately airlifted into the LOS ANGELES area. The fact that the United States would ask China for aid made it abundantly clear how serious the situation was in the United States.

At this time ,the situation was extremely confused. The break down in the National Guard system and spreading panic forced the diversion of more and more troops from service in the immediate emergency zones to general civil policing duties. Riots in BOSTON, CHARLSTON and SAN FRANCISCO had spun completely out of control and several other cities were also suffering great civil unrest. The rumors that other cities would come under attack, as well as the smallpox rumor, resulted in massive civilian movements out of most major cities, hopelessly clogging road nets, and making the movement of ground based emergency and military personnel problematic.

At the governmental level, the mistaken activation of CASE MEGIDDO continued to interfere with responses to the crisis. Many officials were in transit to secure locations, resulting in an inability to immediately respond to changing circumstances. Air Force and Naval commanders were demanding nuclear release authority, while all remaining ground based units outside the United States were ordered to prepare for a return to the CONUS, leading to chaos among those nations dependent on U.S. security guarantees.

The continued use of the internet to spread panic, both due to deliberate enemy action and the natural growth of rumors, finally led to the President activating CASE BLACKOUT, ordering the severing and shut down of all land and celleur links in the United States save for military and emergency links. While this also contributed to panic, it at least shut off the conduit for enemy disinformation.

**Fire breaks:**

With the activation of CASE BLACKOUT, one of the main sources for enemy action had been eliminated. The president ordered that all broadcast facilities were to be kept open and granted complete access to all levels of government, subject only to their own self-censorship. While controversial, this decision restored some badly needed credibility to government and media announcements.

In the field, while there was still looting and rioting, in many areas civilian groups joined up and aided military and police organizations in forming security forces. While untrained (and more likely to utilize lethal force than trained units), these groups had the benefit of being members of the local community, and backed up by police and military units, proved capable in restoring order.

By this time, the CDC, USAMRIID and FEMA had all determined that there was in fact, no loci of infection beyond CHICAGO, and that there were no other biological weapons in use at that point. This permitted a diversion of resources to dealing with the immediate crises, and at this point several nationalized civilian airlines were pressed into service, conducting the ill to hospitals in Mexico, Japan, and Hawaii, which along with Alaska had been spared most of the disorder afflicting the CONUS.

Two weeks after the explosions in LOS ANGELES and PHILADELPHIA most of the disorder had come to an end. While deaths continued from a variety of causes, it was presumed that this attack had, at least in its active phase, ceased.

**Consequences:**

Quite simply, the United States had never been so badly damaged in total terms by any war, to say nothing of any battle. The near total cessation of interstate commerce and damage to infrastructure of all types probably resulted in total damages that might exceed ten percent of the US GDP. Worse, the demands of rebuilding required money, yet industry and commerce had already been damaged, and increased taxes would only add to their woes. While official rationing was never put in place, massive price disruptions would continue well into 2011.

The total casualties for the U.S. and England over the two week period were in excess of 150,000 dead, and many more wounded. The total casualties for the year after the attack may have been as high as 300,000 killed, however, for political reasons of public morale, the decision was made to not count them among the total.

Militarily, the U.S. had been reduced to near impotence for several months. The transfer of so many units and the need to keep them in the U.S. would have borne bitter fruit had any enemy decided to wage war—however, it was probable that most enemies recognized that in such a situation the U.S. might well resort to the first use of nuclear weapons. National Guard units were hit hard, with many demonstrations by states who felt that their guards had been stripped or transferred away, and thus were unable to aid their people when the need came. This also impacted National Guard units directly—high levels of stress, low morale and even cases of increased rates of absenteeism among troops would result in many units being rotated back before 2012, which in turn put even more stress on the regular military.

Psychologically, the scale of the attack, especially after all the post 9/11 security measures, was a powerful blow to the American psyche, especially as there was a lack of any outright enemy to strike at. The news that Iran had provided an (ignored) warning came especially hard, as did the knowledge that the group at this point seemed to have no overt governmental support. Short of launching a war of genocide, there was little the U.S. could do, and such a war would naturally include the hundreds of thousands of U.S. Muslims. Equally important, one of the obvious goals of the attack had been to spark a massive U.S. response, and such a response would only play into the hands of the attackers. For that reason, the United States made the decision to provide special forces assistance to local governments to hunt down these groups, but take no other action, so long as it was plain that cooperation was forthcoming. The consequences of any government attempting to shield them were not spelled out, nor did they have to be.

In the United States itself CASE BLACKOUT was cancelled, and the internet and cell systems were largely brought back online within a month. Nonetheless, the role played by the internet in the attack was not overlooked and many jurisdictions are in the process of passing laws restricting it, in addition to a general loss in popularity, which may be a short term phenomena.

**Recommendations:**

It is unkind to say, but the United States is still unprepared for the kind of Asymmetric warfare demonstrated in this attack. The system designed to defend America from suicide planes worked—but our enemies had made allowances for that. Had the biological weapon been contagious, or had they had more radiological weapons, the consequences may have been far worse.

And it is important to note: _So far as can be told, this conspiracy involved approximately one hundred people._ In terms of cost effectiveness, this operation has to rank as one of the most successful in the history of conflict. The below suggestions are designed to minimize the chance that such an attack will occur again, and minimize the consequences should one be launched.

1. Control of information. After action reports agree that in several cases, terrorists were seen in one jurisdiction, and than in another, but that because the visual imagery was not transmitted, no collection of information was allowed. It is suggested that all public and private security devices be required to make their data available to State and Federal command offices. In order to prevent concerns of civil rights violations, it is suggested that information gained from this be used ONLY in the prevention of terrorism, and data not be used for conventional criminal law enforcement.

2. The National Guard units are unsuited for the kind of fast moving conflict that struck the U.S.—while effective once mobilized, that period of mobilization may render them ineffective—and in addition the presence of family members in the area of operations may lead to other problems.

It is therefore recommended that the Posse Comitatus Act be repealed and military units be permitted to function as first responders to potential terrorist actions. Furthermore a new organization will be best suited to handling such events (see #3, below).

3. The kinds of training for terrorist attacks, and urban conflict are not the same kinds required for open field battle. It is recommended that the United States form a new command group, code named CENTRAL COMMAND. CENTCOM will take over all duties for dealing with actual terrorist or WMD weapons within the United States and its territories, while NORCOM will remain in overall command of conventional defense. It is further recommended that CENTCOM be made up heavily of specialist soldiers, such as Special Operations Troops and CBW specialists to maximize the speed of response, and maintain representatives at the state and local level. CENTCOM is also a morale building name, which will convey the sense that this is now the top priority in the United States Military, although it will require renaming of the current CENTCOM.

4. CASE BLACKOUT demonstrated that the internet may be shut down—but it was in some respects a case of overkill. It is recommended that that United States work to gain the ability to selectively shut down, observe, and change internet traffic so as to prevent future assaults of that nature from being so devastating. The increased ability to gain intelligence is an added bonus.

5. Increased efforts should be made to maintain HUMINT resources, as those can be effective even in the absence of confirmed radio or net intercepts.

6. Non-Governmental operatives such as the late Team Possible (cf. Ron Stoppable), should be maintained. These permit plausible deniability and are assets that can be expended as needed. In addition, in cases where there are doubts as to the political wisdom of getting involved, such resources can be used, and than disavowed should it become necessary.

7. While a political question, the fact is that many governments who oppose the US do not necessarily support terrorist organizations. Efforts should be made to find common ground with them, at least so far as concerns terrorisms. The damage to international commerce from the attacks did not simply harm the U.S., but most governments across the world.

These measures will help, but make no mistake. The recent attacks have proven, even more so than the 2001 attacks, that a small group of individuals may strike in such a way as to gravely damage far larger, and at first glance, more powerful, societies. It is not likely that someone will attempt to repeat this feat—it is certain. Without vigilance, a willingness to make sacrifices, and an open mind, it is likely that the U.S. will again suffer a blow to fall upon it, without the ability to respond effectively.

Sincerely:

(Names removed)

* * *

Wade let the last page fall. Of course the names had been removed—his among them, since they'd called him in for the internet related affairs. 

"And now we have a safe internet"… He murmured.

_Or at least one where you can't get away with anything. _NSA computes churned through every email, every message, every newspost looking for suspicious word combinations. One wit at the GJ headquarters had even sent him a slogan—the words "We're watching" below a copy of a drawing of Sauron's lidless eye. At twelve he'd have laughed at the idea of a fictional character's eye hanging in GJ HQ….but not now. Yes, they'd caught more than a few terrorists… and yes, they had rules and procedures to keep the technology from being abused. The fact that nobody used the net for _direct_ terrorism didn't make it obsolete—it just demanded more access to more information, credit card records, information—hell, there was even some consideration to doing away with cash entirely—making it impossible to do business without leaving a data trail. Wade hoped that one wouldn't go through.

_But rules change. And this technology, the capabilities you put in it, won't go away tomorrow, or the next day, or the next year. It'll just get better. _

Should he? Wade shook his head. In addition to being illegal, why tell Kim? What could she do? Try and stop it? She'd be destroyed…or if she achieved her goal, leave the nation open to those who would destroy it.

_Or maybe I'm too pessemistic. _Wade paused. In his heart of hearts he sometimes wondered if _they_ had taken the easy way out. Kim had never done that. Even in her last, disasterous mission for Ron, she worked with the same extravegant force, spending all her might on the goal, leaving nothing behind for retreat or surrender, because such concepts were alien to her.

_She'd saved the world._ He thought, _more than once. _Did they need saving? _From the enemies you know? Of course not_. But sometimes, deep at night,Wade would awaken... seeming to hear a cold, cold chuckle that came from nowhere, as if all they'd done had been quite acceptable.He was never certain if he'd really heard it or if it had just been some dream.

Wade looked at his computers, his technology, every bit cutting edge, and closed his eyes.

_Every step so small, so needed, so reasonable.__ Even now, I can't think of anything else we could have done. But now we're all riding this technological tiger, and I at least hope that it won't turn around and eat us, or find riders better suited to its __attitudes. _

Maybe Kim could do something. Even though she was on parole. Even though she was forbidden from getting back into the game. Even., even... Maybe she had one last miracle in her, even if Wade didn't have a clue what it might be...

A finger reached out, turned off the screen, plunging the room into darkness as he shut off the other screens. That would have been unthinkable a few years ago. But now…

Now sometimes Wade wished the damned things had never been invented.

_End of side story._

* * *

Real life notes: 

1. Radiological warheads. There's a great deal of controversy on just how lethal radiological weapons would be. Much of that depends on the size of the weapon, the nature of the radiological material and the method of its dispersal. The fact that such weapons can be deadly was amply proved by the 1987 contamination case in Brazil where a single canister of Cesium-137 killed people directly, contaminated over two hundred and created numerous health headaches. While that case depended on long bodily contact, the fact of the matter is as in most cases, it's likely that we'll have to wait and see what happens when one is deployed "in the field".

The ERADS, are of course, fictional. While some methods exist to increase the radioactive activity of materials, they almost always involve a fairly heavy neutron source, and nothing like a "field" to duplicate the feat exists or is likely to exist. However, in a world where you have giant shapechanging robots and synthodrones…

2. Anthrax is a common chioce for biowar agents as it's comparitively easy toweaponize. Both the Gruinard island and the Sverdlovsk outbreaks are real life occurrences. The drug resistant nature of hypothetical anthrax could be achieved even today—and probably has in one or more labs. In the civilian world, MDR (Multi-drug resistant), organisms are already requiring a shift to more powerful antibiotics that are both more expensive and have more side effects. It should be noted that even today, there are conflicting reports on just how many people died at Sverdlovsk—initial reports suggested thousands, more recent reports of 1990+ put the numbers at 200+. Other studies have wildly varying numbers—one study involving a use of 200KG of weaponized anthrax sprayed from an airplane over Washington DC put the casualties at between 130,000 to three million dead. It's another case where we'll probably only find out when someone tries a full scale attack. One of the worst aspects of Anthrax is that generally by the time symptoms develop, it is to late to use anti-biotics, and only supportive treatments may be used.


	16. Announcement of Hiatus

Announcement on hiatus

To all those who have been reading this story, an announcement and apologies.

This story does involve themes of terrorism and security.

Given the atrocity which has just befallen our British friends, I do not think it's appropriate to continue on with this story, at this time. I probably will pick it up in the future, but for now, it's going on indefinite hiatus.

To any British Citizens reading this, my greatest sympathies and prayers in your current moment of need.


	17. XV:  Conversations and Interrogations

_Conversations and Interrogations._

* * *

The bus system in Middleton was working better than ever. Kim's mouth twisted at that thought: "at least the trains run on time." She muttered to herself as she put the money in the drop box. She could have taken a taxi, or asked someone to drive her…but no. The people on the bus were as much a treat as the ride itself.

The address was surprisingly close to her own apartment, and Kim didn't take long to get there. At that point, she hesitated. She'd remembered that Ron had mentioned they'd gotten married…but still… _Shego?_

"Maybe it's some kind of trick." She said to herself. The house didn't _look_ like a fortress of evil. There was a mailbox on the corner, a front yard (with a sprinkler going), a kid's bike off to the side and a car in the driveway. The sun was beginning to go down, but it wasn't overly late. Kim took a deep breath and walked up to the front door.

"I'm probably going to get vaporized." She muttered, especially when she saw the WELCOME mat—which read: "Guests welcome, salesmen will be used for spare parts." Old reflexes caused her to stand to the _side_ of the mat…just incase there was something to the "spare parts" crack. There was a doorbell…and Kim, after a seconds hesitation, punched it.

The doorbell _sounded_ normal…and seconds later, there was a thumping sound and the door was opened. Kim was looking up to where Shego would have been, and took a moment to realize nobody was in the door. Then she looked down. A young girl, probably about seven or eight looked up at her, green eyes and black hair giving abundant proof of her parentage.

"Hi…" Kim said, "I'm…"

"Kim Possible!" The girl said and suddenly looked behind her and shouted, "MOM, your nemesis is here!"

"What?" The voice was familiar, if a little puzzled. "Jessica, what _are_ you talking about? Nemesis is on the couch…" with that, the owner of the voice came into view.

It was Shego.

Sort of.

Kim blinked. There was Shego. One hand held a wooden spoon with spaghetti sauce on it, and she wore a cooking apron with the words: "You'll Eat it, and Like It!" on the front. Under that, Kim could see a pair of bluejeans and a white T-shirt, and Shego's hair was done up in a pony tail, being held by a…cartoon scrunchy? Something she could never recall seeing Shego in…. it didn't…

_It looks…domestic. _Kim shook her head, and suddenly realized that maybe an attack would have been…more normal.

"Woah… Kimmie." Shego said, looking at her. Evidently Shego also was groping for what to do absent the traditional "get into a fight".

"Ummm…."

"Well, come on in." Shego said, evidently coming to a decision. The kid was looking between her and Kim with fascination on her face.

"Are you going to fight?" She asked.

"I…." Shego blinked, "Don't think so."

"Awwww…." The kid said. Then suddenly, Shego looked down at her and frowned.

"Homework done?"

"Yes." There was reluctance to the voice, a sound of "Mom's about to find something for me to do."

The child was perceptive.

"Here, Jessica." Shego said, handing her the spoon. "Go keep the sauce from boiling."

"Aw, _mom…_"

"Aw, _kid…"_ Shego said back, "Go, mom has spoken." Jessica took one look at her mom, took the spoon, and headed off. As she turned the corner, Shego raised her voice.

"And that cake had _better_ not have any bites out of it tonight."

"Cake?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, I made one for the kids—Drew's on the West Coast, the kids are a bit lonely, and I decided to be nice, since Jessica's been helpful with the twins." She got an evil smile on her face, "_and_ she'll continue to be helpful getting the cake off of them."

"Aren't they supposed to eat cake?"Kim said, realizing that Shego had at least three kids…

"That's the general idea, but most three year olds haven't really gotten it yet. They stick with the 'mash enough of it on your face and some gets in by chance,' school of eating." Shego said. Then Kim realized what sort of scrunchy she was using to hold her hair… Shego noticed Kim and very slightly, reddened.

"I'm not into Pandaroo, Kimmie, but I couldn't find mine this morning, so I stole Jessica's." She shrugged, "Trust me, getting three kids ready for school and doctor appointments, by 7:30…ain't easy."

"I…um…" Kim said.

"What's a matter? They had a vow of silence in the joint?"

"No, it's just that I didn't…."

"Expect me to go on the straight and narrow." Shego laughed, softly, and suddenly sounded a bit more serious. "Didn't leave me much choice, Kimmie…" Then she repeated, "Come on in." With that, Kim entered the house of Shego.

* * *

Ron was simply pacing around them, Yori noted, not saying a thing. The two conscious students were veering between trying to pretend he didn't bother them, and desperately trying to keep a lock on him, which made the few times he paused, for a moment, out of their field of view, terrifying for them.

The girl, Shelly was looking at her, trying to summon up courage to say something, obviously. Yori hoped she'd keep her mouth shut. She'd seen Ron like this before. He was…. Dangerous.

"Well?" Ron asked, in that same emotionless tone.

"Well what?" Shelly said, a quaver in her voice.

"The codes. All information you have. Anything you think I may wish to know."

"Why?" Shelly asked. Again, that emotionless stare.

"To insure that we find all of the viruses you have created, obviously."

"No!" Shelly said hotly. "You're working for the government and Bueno Nacho!" The figure looked at her and said nothing. "Well, we're not going to help them make more money on the backs of peasant farmers, and destroy their traditional way of life."

_Oh. Shit. _Yori didn't swear very often, and now it was more of a prayer. She prayed that the girl would talk about something, anything else—like Ron Stoppable's, owner of Bueno Nacho, unnatural habits with barnyard animals. Anything would be safer than the route she was taking… and the fact that she didn't even _know_ she was talking to Ron didn't help at all.

_Don't start talking to her Ron._ If Ron just terrorized her into shutting up, she wouldn't have a chance to…

"Traditional way of life?" No such luck. Yori thought, as Ron turned partially away from her. "You do know that traditional crop lines have long since been harmed by the over use of pesticides, and in any case pesticides are expensive and dangerous. That without machinery or organization, many families must work full time, _all _of them, to simply obtain enough crops to live in poverty—enough to let them exist, to labor again." He paused, "I'm certain you researched that, before you decided to unilaterally take the choice from them….the choice to have crops that yield enough so that maybe some of them may go on to do other things. School, for instance."

"Hah!" Shelly said. "Just corporate propaganda."

_Oh Buddha, shut up…_

"And the children who suffer and die from malnutrition?" His voice was amazingly calm, like he was talking about the weather, but Shelly knew the answer to his question—they had it in their struggle meetings.

"The death of children, while regrettable, is a part of the struggle. In any case, the over population of the regions is something that must be solved, and starvation is simply part of the natural process." She parroted the words their spiritual leader (a tenured professor who had never left the United States) had spoken and then looked up in satisfaction. She thought she'd won for a moment, as the male figure did nothing…the female figure actually backed up.

Then the male figure spoke, and something about his voice terrified her.

"Indeed." He paused. "The codes?"

"Never!"

"Very well." The man said, turned and started to walk to her. His silence was more frightening than any threat.

* * *

Shego led Kim into the house, and Kim looked around. There were pictures on the wall. Shego and Dra-Drew, alone, at a beach, (Good Lord, Kim thought, does Drew really wear those clothes in public?), with the kids, birthday parties, a picture of Shego and Motor Ed, clowning for the camera… she shook her head. It looked, in fact, like the photowall at her parents house. She shook her head. She'd never seen anything like this at any lairs.

"That's because it's hard to have a family if you have to run every few weeks, Kimmie." Kim blinked. Had she said that alou-

"Your face was pretty easy to read." Shego said. "Coffee?"

"Um, OK." Kim said, as they entered the living room. Shego went to a unit on the wall, and touched a button, coming up with two cups of coffee.

"That's with the house?" Kim asked pointing to the coffee maker in the wall. Shego laughed.

"Nah, I bought it after one time Drew came back after I'd used the coffee maker—two hours of ranting over how I hadn't fixed the filter right, and this, and that….so now, _his_ coffee maker only gets used by Drew, and _my_ coffee maker is a nice model that I don't have to mess with except when I get coffee." Kim looked at the couch—there was an orange throw pillow on it…and then she looked again as the cat looked up at her and yawned. Kim sat down beside it. Then, suddenly…

"Nemesis is on the _couch?_" Kim looked at the orange tabby cat, and noticed that it's eyes were green.

"Well, um…actually Drew was the one who named it…"

"After _me?_" Kim asked.

"Just Nemesis." Shego said, looking slightly apologetic. Then a loud voice came from the kitchen.

"Daddy called her Arch-Nemesis when she scratched him!" Shego quickly spoke.

"Jessica, you don't need to tell…"

"But you said you wished Kim was her, remember? It was when you came back from the vet after she got fixed."

"You…you…. Spayed my _namesake?_" Suddenly, Nemesis was in Kim's lap, purring thunderously as she found a kindred spirit. Kim scratched her behind the ears, earning a luxurious stretch, as the cat found a better position and went back to sleep in her lap, twitching contentedly.

"Well, Kim…. Really, it was for the cat's sake, and we wer'nt thinking of you." Shego said with a smile, "Honestly."

"I bet." Kim paused.

"So Shego… How did you come to…."

"Be June Cleaver? Your fault, all the way, Kimmie." And with that, Shego leaned back and started to talk.

TBC.


	18. XVI: Memories

_Chatting and Memories_

* * *

"See…" Shego said, "After you did your crash and burn, well, things went pretty good for a while…then really bad." She laughed softly. "Because Ron had a ton of money and a lot of time, and in addition to everything else he did, he bankrolled GJ to develop plasma resistant suits." She sighed, "Nothing like having your trademark rendered moot." 

"That made you quit?"

"Well, that and the fact that the government decided to stop playing around." Shego pointed to one picture on the wall that Kim hadn't noticed, which was Shego, looking annoyed with one of those kids sucker tipped "bullets" stuck on her forehead.

"Your kids'?"

"No. Seal Team Six." Shego said. "They came in with those plasma resistant suits Ron came up with, and shot me in the head with the kids gun…and told me if Drakken and I didn't like their offer, there was always plan "b" which involved the real guns in the other holsters." She laughed, "They used the same tactic on Dr. D….with the exception that they added some nice bribe material—all the research money he wanted and license to work for the government…with the proviso that all patents were Uncle Sam's."

"What was their offer?" Kim asked.

"We plead guilty to a bunch of crimes, get a life+20 sentence and get immediately paroled." Shego said. "and Dr. D had a _lot_ to give the U.S."

"You're on parole?" Kim asked. "Is Rabbi Katz your parole agent?"

"Not on your life." Shego said, and her voice became quieter as she looked over towards the kitchen. "The government trusts you, Kimmie, and they did what they had to do, not what they wanted to do—why do you think you did your time in the safest prison in the United States?" She took a sip of her coffee, "They _don't_ trust Dr. D, and they sure don't trust me. Our 'parole officer' is up at Langley, and there's another one in the Pentagon." Shego laughed and peered at Kim though her lambent green eyes, "Not that they need to be anywhere near here… I'm chipped, Dr. D is chipped—they know where we are, to the foot, twenty four hours a day, they have complete telemetry feeds on our vital signs—hell, they probably know when I'm faking in bed." She leaned forward. "All mail, phone calls, and internet connections are monitored, and any economic transactions are logged—as well as library cards, memberships and what I said at the last PTA meeting."

"That's…. _horrible_." Kim said. She thought _she_ was being watched. "When…when will it end?"

"Assuming no pardon? When I die…well, actually, according to the parole agreement, my obligation ends after the autopsy on my body."

"How…how can you…" Kim shuddered at the image.

"Didn't have a lot of choice, Kim…oh I could stand on my 'rights', and I'm certain the kids would enjoy the weekly visits…" Shego got quiet, "But…" She shrugged, "After we did the deal, I stuck around with Dr. D. Didn't have a lot of options—all my money was gone, and there weren't a lot of ways to make more. I never really liked the idea of check-out clerk, and Dr. D decided to keep me on as a assistant... since he never could organize worth a damn." She laughed, "And he needs someone to take care of him, that's for sure, so I did that, and well, surprise surprise, Jessica comes along as an…unexpected gift, so we get married." She checked again to make certain Jessica was still in the kitchen, and continued in a lower tone.

"And that, Kimmie is why Shego dropped all her wonderful plots to blow this joint and get back into the wonderful world of international crime… you know my contracts?"

"Yeah?" Kim leaned forward, fascinated, at what had probably been the longest conversation she'd ever had with Shego… without any fighting that is. But everyone knew about how paranoid Shego was about filling out contracts.

"When you have a kid you make a contract with them…that you'll ignore the fact they just made you feel like you were passing a bowling ball and are spitting up on you and wanting to be fed at all times of the night… and you'll take care of them." Kim had never heard Shego's voice so serious. "I had them, I take care of them. And that means that no dragging them on some crazy chase across the world, leaving them without a mom, or anything like that." She paused, "So, I had them, they need a mom, and I'm here…." Her voice got a little softer, "And they're good kids, for all that they can drive me crazy." At that point, there was a sound at the door into the back of the house and Kim looked over to see a boy, about three with dark hair, holding a teddy bear in one hand, looking up at the two. He didn't say a thing to Kim, but ran over to Shego and leaped into her lap as she expertly transferred the coffee to the small table and held him.

"What are you doing up?" She asked. "Don't you know it's nap time?" Big eyes looked up at her as he nodded and then turned looked at Kim and promptly buried his face into his mom's side. Shego laughed softly. "OK, you can stay here for now, at least until your sister gets up."

"That's…"

"David, and if she gets up, you'll see his sister Sharon, but I don't think it'll be before dinner, because she was tearing around the house like a crazy woman this afternoon. David's a little shy around strangers." She continued and then nudged the small child. "You certain you don't want to say hi to the nice lady, David?" A quick shake of the head answered her. "OK…" She pulled him a little closer to her and in a few moments David was asleep. "He takes a little after his dad… I know you probably never noticed it, but Drew is not the most… confident person." She gave David a kiss on the top of his head. "That's why I have him and Sharon going to the Pre-K for a half day—there's a lot of kids their age there, and hopefully if he gets used to people he'll be a little more easy with strangers."

"Does he like other kids?" Kim asked, still trying to wrap her mind around the entire conversation.

"Kid's he's fine with—he gets a little nervous around people that he has to look up at, literally."

"Mom!" Jessica's voice came from the kitchen. "Dinner's getting ready!" Without missing a beat, Shego settled David against a pillow and got up without waking him up.

"So, Kimmie, just in case you're not yet weirded out enough…wanna stay for dinner?" Kim could only nod.

* * *

Ron finished coding in the passwords, and Yori looked over at the three prisoners. She'd made the decision to send in an anonymous call to the police, who would be sending a team into the zone…they certainly weren't able to get out of the zone to turn themselves in. 

The girl had both urinated and defecated on herself, and was completely incoherent. Neither one of the men were much better off. Ron finished his work and then turned around to look at them, as all three of them desperately tried to squeeze themselves through the wall.

"The police will be here soon. If you confess, you will not…meet me again. If not…" The two men nodded jerkily, while the woman got even more hysterical, if possible. Ron turned around and left the room, while Yori followed him. Tying them up again would be the height of redundancy.

And Ron hadn't even done anything physical to them, Yori thought, shuddering. But when he was like this… he didn't need to. He'd just taken them apart like some malfunctioning appliance, and his lack of overt anger made it more terrifying than anyone not there could imagine.

"Was that necessary?"

"We were to scare them."

"But not destroy them."

"Small loss." Ron said, looking at her, something feral and hungry lurking in his eyes. Yori shuddered. If only that damned stupid girl hadn't felt the need to mouth off like she had…

* * *

"_What happened here." Ron ground out, the 19 year old looking much older. It had been two years since Kim had gone to prison, and Yori had been with Ron for much of that time, and ever sense he'd left the school. Sensei had sent her to go with him, in case the Lotus Blade gained control…. Or in case Ron unleashed it. _

_She assumed he didn't realize they would also become lovers. _

_But right now there was little of that. Ron had used his large amount of royalty money and the profits from the newly acquired Bueno Nacho, to assist third world famine spots. "Kim would have liked it." Was his comment._

_But now they were in a disaster area. The helicopter was behind them, with some nervous guards, and the feeding station was…destroyed. Completely, Utterly, Destroyed._

_"The um…Socialist Peoples Army of The Lord came through." The doctor said, being supported by a nurse, his head bandaged. "They said this was a imperialist outpost…and that they were taking the food for their own use. They also took everyone who could walk." Yori flinched. Like many "armies" in this part of the world, they preferred to break in children early…and she wished she'd never read about exactly how they broke their "recruits". _

_"Is there anything left?" Ron asked, twitching, looking around at the feeding station, the place of refuge that had become anything but._

_"No Mr. Stoppable…nothing. What they couldn't take they destroyed." The volunteer looked at him. "I'm sorry… if we could have done anything… I mean, if you keep up the funding…" Ron slashed his hand and the doctor shut up._

_He's twenty years older than either of us and now he's begging us. Yori thought. _

_"I'm not angry at you, doctor, and the funding will continue…but I don't know if it's fair to keep you and your people out here, vulnerable to…this."_

_"I…" The doctor swayed. _

_"Take him to the helicopter, and have them get him to the main hospital." Ron ordered. The nurse looked concerned. _

_"This place isn't safe-"_

_"It is for us." Ron said, and something about his voice stopped her. "Go." She went. Yori realized that Ron was looking for something, stretching out with the senses he gained from his body and his connection with the sword. Ron leaned forward, and moved past the smashed goods, the tiny amount of grain and flour that had been smashed into the ground… trotting behind the station, Ron came to a small slope._

_"Oh my God." Was all he said, looking down. _

_TBC._


	19. Dinner, Part I

_ Dinner: Part I. _

Dinner was… strange. Kim watched as Jessica ate, watching the two adults. David and Sharon were both… well, getting food somewhere near their mouths, with Shego helping them eat. Evidently, David had forgotten his fear of Kim when he'd started smelling dinner.

"And once again we give thanks to washing machines." Shego said, wiping Sharon's face off. A few minutes later, after the cake, the younger kids were washed off and Jessica was helping them with some toys, while watching TV herself.

"Jessica babysits?"

"Oh yes." Shego said. "Hey, _I_ had to do it, and so does she." Her grin changed slightly, "And she really likes her sister and brother—not jealous like…anyway." A brief shadow passed over Shego's face as she turned to Kim.

"So, how is life on the outside?" Shego said, grin returning. "Getting used to breathing the free air?" Kim looked up and opened her mouth and then closed it.

"I… it's weird." Kim said, and suddenly she found herself talking to Shego, about her meeting with Ron, the simulation…his mission right after she'd come back..

"Yeah, he's really flowered." Shego said. Then she looked at Kim seriously.

"And you're not happy with him for his protection."

"No!" Kim said. Shego paused, and then changed the subject, Kim noticed talking about mundane things until she had the kids in bed, or rather the brother and sister in bed and Jessica playing a game in the living room. Then Shego looked at her and gestured to the dining room table, where she could keep watch on the room with the younger kids and keep an eye on the living room… Kim realized suddenly to make certain Jessica didn't come wandering in.

"OK…" Shego said, "out of the slammer for less than a week and already having fights. Well I win my bet with Dr. D."

"You be-" Shego graced her with a grin she'd last seen when the older woman was trying to eviscerate her.

"Course I did." Shego said unrepentantly. "You did your time, I'll grant you and did it well…but I bet you kept thinking about how you could make things better once you were out."

"Well, I-" Kim reddened. Shego continued, and a more kindly tone, itself unusual.

"Of course you did. Let some people think you're a fake, I know better…but let me guess…. You kinda had an image that the world had gone into freeze frame when you had left, and now God unpaused it, and things start again—bet you even got a little confused when you went by the school if you di-oh, you did, I figured you would." Kim nodded mutely. Then Shego continued, "And you kinda had in the back of your mind that Ron had been waiting for you, and was still the lovable kid you fought evil with and who lost his trousers on a regular basis, and as much as you want to deny it, _even to yourself_, you didn't expect the part about him doing stuff that would leave you looking like you'd been dropped into a meatgrinder, _or_ taking the lead in what was going to be done."

"I-" Kim put the cup down, feeling the anger and shame come back, her hand trembling a little. "You know-"

"Not entirely—not everything, but my first time in prison was a single year…and sometimes it felt like I'd gone to earth II after I got out. You spent ten years in…and the world's changed a lot more."

"And nobody seems to care!" Kim said, finally, "I mean, there are spybots at the mall, and the Middleton Police Department has soldiers in it-"

"Not in it—at the space center." Shego corrected, "But yeah, things go wrong they can call in the quick reaction force." She shrugged, "You think that's bad, check out LAX—nothing like picking up an escort on the way in knowing that if you divert from flight path they're there to blow you out of the sky."

"don't tell me _you_ agree!" Kim said, feeling a little huffy, Shego of all people should-

"I don't know, Princess." Shego paused, "You were in the slammer… and they probably put a lock down on media."

"Well, live yeah-"

"So you didn't see them having to load trucks with body bags in our cities. Most of the people who bought it were civilians, and now suicide bombs are the new rage… all the skill of a smart bomb, none of the cost." She looked down at her coffee, and stirred it, "And they used _Drew's_ tools to do some of the damage, If I could ever get a hold of-" Her hand started to glow green and Shego abruptly stopped and sat back.

"What-"

"Wait-" Shego said, and the phone rang.

"Hello?" She asked, "Yes, this is Lipsky." Shego got a sardonic look on her face, "As if you didn't know already. Yes, I fired up my plasma. No, nothing like that. I was talking and I was thinking about something. Yes, she's here. I'm assuming that if she was on the no-talk list you would have called already. No, I'm not luring her into a life of Crime." Shego smiled, "I know it's hard for you—like I said you could always put a camera in the shower."

Pause.

"Well yes you'd also see Drew—he's my husband. What's a matter, some things even a secret agent doesn't want to see? Okay. No, I'll keep it down. Bye."

"What was that?" Kim asked.

"Forgot—I'm not supposed to light the plasma off without permission." Shego shrugged, "They have to call me and remind me I violated the terms, but unless it's in public or high power, they don't care much—kinda of, 'remember we're looking' sort of thing." Kim shivered at the way Shego just seemed to accept it.

"But see Kimmie." Shego said quietly, "the people who did that? The people who strap bombs to themselves? They don't see Jessica and David and Sharon as kids. They see them as "good targets" because nothing scares people like seeing their children blown into tiny gobbets of shredded flesh." She paused, "They've done it. If they could, they'll do it again." Kim looked into Shego's eyes and suddenly realized that she was also hearing some of the tone of Ron and Yori. A…harder tone.

_You've been in prison for ten years... and they've been living with stuff like _this_ for ten years. _

"So on the one hand, I'd like to run free, dreaming of the day when I can run down the street naked except for a chicken hat, and only worry about giving some nerd a hard on." She paused, "Or traumatizing him when he realizes how old I am, and not giving half the drone and CCTV jockeys in the state a show." Then a sigh, "On the other hand, those guys have stopped people who would love nothing more than to leave my children dead. Not might have stopped, _have_ stopped. They probably even saved your mom—two years ago some guy came up with the bright idea of car bombing the hospital." Kim started at that. Nobody had told her that. Then Shego leaned back and smiled, and suddenly she was all Shego.

"And you just managed to sidetrack the conversation." Shego said, as Nemisis rubbed up against Kim's leg. "We were talking mainly about _Ron._" Shego checked the room where Jessica was still engrossed in a three dimensional display. "Oh good, she'll be doing that all night."

"Doing what?"

"Oh, Drew and some other people—your dad among them, came up with an educational "game" that actually entertains. She's putting molecules together right now."

"She's-"

"Seven, but your brothers, Dad and Wade, not to mention her daddy think she can learn faster. Mom defends against the danger of nerdification."

"How?"

"Soccer practice and making certain she gets out of the house." Shego said, "Now about Ron, Kimmie, I think there are some things you need to know, not just about him and you, but about him."

To be continued.


	20. Dinner part II

Dinner Part II

_The general rule which we have now pretty well established among them is that in all experiences which can make them happier or better only the physical facts are "Real" while the spiritual elements are "subjective"; in all experiences which can discourage or corrupt them the spiritual elements are the main reality and to ignore them is to be an escapist. Thus in birth the blood and pain are "real", the rejoicing a mere subjective point of view; in death, the terror and ugliness reveal what death "really means". The hatefulness of a hated person is "real"—in hatred you see men as they are, you are disillusioned; but the loveliness of a loved person is merely a subjective haze concealing a "real" core of sexual appetite or economic association. Wars and poverty are "really" horrible; peace and plenty are mere physical facts about which men happen to have certain sentiments. The creatures are always accusing one another of wanting "to cat the cake and have it"; but thanks to our labours they are more often in the predicament of paying for the cake and not eating it. Your patient, properly handled, will have no difficulty in regarding his emotion at the sight of human entrails as a revelation of Reality and his emotion at the sight of happy children or fair weather as mere sentiment._

_ The Screwtape Letters._

* * *

Kim waited for Shego to continue, but the older woman was silent, marshelling her thoughts. That alone told Kim something. Shego was hardly ever at a loss for words.

"Ron…" Shego paused again, and then continued, "Ron saw a lot of nasty stuff. While you were in jail he was running feeding missions in Africa around one of those lovely places where it's a race to see what gets you first—starvation or the thugs taking your food." She looked at Kim, "They took out one of his stations, killed a bunch of kids, left them in a ditch. I guess it was a message."

"Oh God." Kim said, Ron had always been a lot more sensitive then he'd let on and…

"No, not God, I don't think." Shego's eyes crinkled, "Well he had the sword, and an _amazing_ number of would be warlords turned up sliced and diced—sometimes inside their tanks at the time." She paused, and remembered the headline—_Mysterious Jungle Demon Strikes again,_ with the picture of an HQ with nearly a hundred dead bodies in it. "Fortunately, the big boys really don't like talking about magic, so I don't think anyone knows about the sword, or Yamanouchi as anything other than a training center for spec ops with a ninja fetish."

"So Ron…"

"Yeah." Shego frowned, "But of course you can kill all day, and all night, and what usually happens is that the sort of people you killed just get replaced by people just as nasty. Ron figured it out pretty quickly and so when he came back he was…"

"Driven?"

"Uh-huh, good thing Yori was with him." Shego looked at Kim and raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not completely.."

"Ron was sleeping with Yori."

"Yap. If not for you, he might have been more." Kim dropped her eyes at that. Yori would have made Ron happy and she'd just…

"Don't get teenage angsty on me." Shego said, in a slightly sharper tone. "Anyway, it turns out Zorpox's old skills didn't need him to be Zorpox to be used, and Ron showed it. He developed some very killer business instincts and built Bueno Nacho back up—hell he even hired Dr. D and your dad to do some work, and started investing."

"I know, he's pretty rich."

"Pretty Rich doesn't even begin to describe it, Kim." Shego looked out the window. "It's not as obvious here—but did he tell you about the Microloan program?"

"Yeah."

"That's one of his programs—a small one. Ron went to all these little crapholes where kids get sold on the street, and put money in. Not the way the big boys did, spending half the money on a huge building and the other half on a committee that takes ten years to say: "yes, starvation makes poor people die." He got the money to the little people, the ones with ambition, the ones who really honestly wanted to make a better life for their kids."

"Wow."

"Wow indeed." Shego looked over at Jessica, still engrossed in her project. "That thing Jessica is working on? It has a brother—Ron spent millions working on a way to build a personal laptop that can serve as a communications device, scanner, data base and school book, complete with a solar powered printer that a village can set up—one that can make school books out of just about any sort of paper or wood pulp. Presto—thousands of villages, millions of kids get the kind of educational resources they never had before. Not only that but its so cheap and durable you can give everyone one, and it works just fine in jungles or deserts…or if you dig it up out of bog where it spent the last ten years."

"But how…" Kim paused, "I mean how is he managing to spend so much money? He can't be that rich, nobody is."

"He wasn't—but while everyone was laughing at him and figuring to buy Bueno Nacho when it went out of business, they weren't bothering to see what was happening. _Here_ especially after the attacks, people weren't buying, and companies were being "conservative" in their investments. _Ron_ and the Bueno Nacho group wasn't."

"And?"

"And I don't know if he had figured on it, but with all the counter terrorism tariffs and border controls, there was suddenly a lot more room for people who wanted to build their own industries at home…and who had a little start up money."

"From Bueno Nacho."

"Yep, and more people with education. And those people got better jobs and had more money—maybe not much compared to us, but more than they had ever had in their lives, and they spent it, which meant more people to _make_ things…" Kim thought about that, thought about the numbers she'd read about even in high school.

"How much?"

"You heard about the Mexican Miracle?"

"A little."

"You should read about it—an average increase of the middle class in Mexico by 10 percent. It's not all Rons' doing, but he helped. A lot. "

"How much does Ron own?"

"Directly? Not much—he doesn't like the idea of "absentee landlords"." Kim shook her head. In high school, she'd have lain odds that Ron wouldn't even know what that meant. "He told me that 'people respect what they own', and he'd sell them food and other stuff, but their homes and businesses were their own." She chuckled, "not that he doesn't own a lot still—the Bueno Nacho group has a lot of industry now, ask him about their contract with the Coast Guard."

"So, he's richer than God, and has helped a lot of people." Kim said, then looked at Shego eyes narrowed, "So why is there a problem."

"Good catch Kimmie." Shego said and suddenly there wasn't any humor in her eyes. "Because he's _not_ God. He would, if he could, fix every person on this planet, make it so everyone had a home, nobody had to worry about dying in a ditch because some waste of space decided to make an example. The fact that he hasn't been able to stop all terrorism, really, really tears at him. It's not like it was when we were doing things and he could laugh it off."

"Well he certainly didn't want my help." Kim said.

"Of course not. You deserve to be safe, everyone deserves to be safe, and he needs to take it all on himself." Shego picked up a toothpick and started to bend it. "He's forgotten how to bend-" The toothpick bowed more, "and we all know what happens then." It snapped in two. "he saw starving and shot kids, hell Yori told me he held one and sang to her as she died. She gave him her teddy bear."

_The Bear in the offi-oh God._

"Yeah." Shego continued, "He's… he comes over here sometimes, the kids love him."

_Ron Comes over here?_

"How do you think I got this nice house?" Shego said, and suddenly there was no humor in her voice, "Do you think they'd normally let me have a house and kids? You may think this sucks (and I saw your expression), but we have it as good as we do because Ron called in a lot of favors. I might be phoning the kids instead of putting them to bed and going to court to see what sort of foster care visitation rights we get, if it wasn't for him." She shrugged, "Not to mention hiring Drew for some projects."

"But?"

"But he's getting to where I don't think he sees as much of the good anymore. Maybe it's that sword—I've been told by a birdie named Yori that it can be hard to keep control of… maybe it's…"

"Yes?"

"Maybe he's thinking too much about the fact that for every kid he saves, there may be another one who dies. That scares me."

Kim looked at Shego and waited, but then asked.

"How bad is it?"

"I don't know." Shego quietly said. The older woman looked over again into the living room where her oldest child continued to work. "But I don't want it to get any worse. I owe him."

"I…"

"I'm just saying he'll probably piss you off royally." Shego said, shaking back to her old mood, a familiar grin on her face, "But try not to kill him…well, not anywhere else then in bed." Her grin got wider as Kim blushed.

"And what about…what about me?"

"What about you."

"Ron doesn't want me to do the hero thing anymore…"

"Neither does your parole officer."

"Couldn't Ron get that fixed."

"touché. Maybe he could. " Shego paused, "Do you want to go back to it?"

"I-"

"Because if you do, you'll be killing. Oh, there are some like Demontor or Monkey Fist out there still, but a lot more doing things like rigging bombs in buses or putting poison in food. Some day, you'll be in a simple position—"kill him, or she dies.""

_Killing._ Kim had been sick at the thought that she might have hurt some of the men when she busted Jamison out of jail. _Killing.__ Even if they deserve it._

"You said "I can do anything."" Shego said, "on that website of yours."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you need to widen your perspective a little." She gestured towards the window and by extension the world outside. "There are a lot of definitions of 'anything'. Pounding on bad guys is only one of them." Kim heard the clock beep and looked up and started.

"Oh man, I only have an hour to get back home." Kim said.

"Sorry, I can't drive you." Shego said, "I'm house bound until 7:00 tomorrow, without asking for permission."

"I can take the bus, if I go now."

"don't let me hold you—Jessica! Time to get ready for bed!"

"Mom-"

"You can build the ultimate weapon tomorrow—bed now!" Kim shook her head at that, and then walked to the door with Shego. Suddenly, as she was turning to leave, a question came that she just blurted out.

"You can come over sometime, right?"

"Oh sure, even at night." Shego said. "I just have to clear it. We can all talk about…" Suddenly her voice was softer, "what things were like before all this. "

"I'd like that." Kim said, and turned to head to the bus.

* * *

TBC. 


	21. An old friend

Coming home

* * *

It was late, Ron knew, and he probably should go to bed. Yori had retired earlier, and now…. he looked up and sighed. It wasn't late, it was early, with the first tinges of the dawn touching the sky. He reached in and called on the power to keep himself up for the day. He'd sleep like the dead tonight, but that was the price you paid. 

Stupid girl. No doubt she'd forget everything he told her. Maybe work it around to a story of how she stayed strong and pure to her _cause_.

"I should have killed her." Ron said to himself. Arrogant, full of themselves, willing to condemn half the world to starvation, wearing _clothes_ that were worth more than some peoples entire life.

The spoiled children of wealth on one side and the hateful children of fanaticism on the other. For half…a tenth of what was spent fighting over the spoils he could make the world, well if not a paradise, better than it had ever been. No rationing required. No "robbing the Rich."

Just people developing the intelligence that seemed to always elude them and realize that yeah, what happened to your neighbor, even the one who dressed funny and talked funny and lived in a funny place where they didn't have good water in the end _always_ came back to you.

It wouldn't have been a great loss. He'd killed before, ravening through the forest and jungle, blazing with the fire of the Sword, some of the children had even called him Michael, after the Archangel of Heaven. The ones who had grown fat on their misery hadn't had a chance to call him much of anything.

But he'd promised Yori, and in any case, in a year the dead warlords had been replaced by new warlords and everything was the same. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to break his promise, to kill and kill until the evil were gone.

And sometimes he feared the end to that would be him, alone, on an empty continent.

Sometimes he wondered if there _was_ any hope to it.

* * *

Yori yawned and woke, walking into the office and seeing Ron sitting there, going through paperwork with the mechanical speed that let her know there was nothing important to it. 

"You have subordinates for that."

"I know." Ron said, not stopping.

"And what have you learned?"

"One of my accountants made a .5 cent per gallon error on cheese sauce."

"Ah." Yori said. "And shall we go fire him today?" Ron frowned.

"No. I was thinking of-"

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"Seeing Kim?"

"Not a good time right now. She's probably still tweaked."

"True…or are you trying to think of a plan to convince her that you are right."

"Um…"

"Ron." Yori sighed, "Remember our earlier conversation—don't treat Kim like some special ops problem you can plan around."

"I know." Ron said, "But…"

"Tonight, why don't you go talk to her. Don't try to convince her of anything." Yori said. "_Ask_ her what she wants."

"I-" Ron paused, "I didn't do that, did I?"

"Not in a serious way, no."

"I think maybe I should…talk to her." Ron said, "Instead of over her." Yori clapped her hands.

"And to think Steve Barkin despaired of your learning potential, Stoppable-San!" She said, squealing with girlish glee.

"You know, I can tell when you are being sarcastic, Yori." Ron said.

"Good." Yori said, then becoming more serious. "I think you should talk to her, tonight."

"Oh? You know something?"

"A feeling." Yori said. "Nothing more."

* * *

Kim woke up, early as usual, and made herself breakfast, before heading out for the day. It was Friday, and she figured to walk around a bit. The weekend would be with her parents and brothers, and then, hopefully, she started work on Monday. Like she had done before, she took the bus—but also walked. 

She wondered if all the people around her knew what is was like to walk, under the sun, as far as you could walk, with no locked doors or walls in your way. She avoided the mall—to be honest, she wasn't a teenager any more and the omnipresent eyes still bothered her. On the other hand, there was a small open air market and food court near the space center, and maybe she could visit dad while she was there. She'd have to call Rabbi Katz—she recalled the Space Center was close to a red zone, but her dad worked there so it shouldn't be a problem.

The food court served a variety of foods, none of them fast food—and none of them having any relationship to the cafeteria food she'd eaten in prison. Ten years worth of cafeteria food, even if it was better than mystery meat.

Kim decided to people watch. There were plenty of workers from the space center out today eating.

"Probably not dad". Kim said to herself. If dad was anything like he had been, he'd be forgetting to eat, wrapped up in his current project.

Mixed in with the workers were soldiers, more than Kim remembered, but then the scream of a jet called her eyes up to where an F35 was taking off. The space center didn't used to have military jets based at it either.

"Oh you've got to be kidding!" A voice said, bursting into laughter from the table over from her. Kim looked over to see a blonde in a Marine Corps officer uniform—Major it appeared, laughing with a man in some uniform she hadn't seen before. Strange, the woman looked.

Kim blinked, remembering a picture.

"Tara?" She asked. The woman looked up and blinked at her.

"_Kim?_" Tara said, in disbelief, and then, leaped up and somehow teleported over to her table. Kim leaped up as well and reached out, then paused, uncertain. Would Tara-

Suddenly she was pulled into a bear hug, and realized that Tara was a _lot_ stronger than she had been in high school.

"I can't believe it's you!" Tara said. Then, without missing a beat. "I'm going to kill Ron for not letting me know."

"Maybe he did, love." Her companion said, "We weren't exactly available the last couple of weeks."

"Mm, yea, I'll only kill him a little, then."

"Tara…you're…" Kim blinked, and stupidly said the first thing that came out of her mouth. "A major." She paused, realized how that sounded, "I mean in Ron's picture of you, you were a captain," Tara sighed.

"I know." She paused, "Before we get to talking, I'll tell you a story."

"A story?"

"About a strange world, where you have someone who likes her job, who is happy at her job, who enjoys flying plains and laying the righteous smack down on those who threaten the US or our friends."

"Okay…"

"Now, in a normal world, people would say: She likes her job. She's good at her job. Let's leave her there. But not this world. No, in this world they say: Let's promote her so her ass gets soft from chair parade, take her plane away, and tell her she has to go to Fort Bragg to work with the Joint Service Panel on advanced counter terrorist intelligence operations." She sighed. "So, short form, they made me do it."

"I still like my plan." Her friend said, who loomed over them both.

"Stop it, that's seditious." Tara said. "Oh, Kim, this untutored lout is my boyfriend. Kim, Meet Captain James Taggert, Australian Special Air Service."

"Untutored? I'll have you know my family could read all the way back to when they left England." He paused, "Not well mind you, or they'd have noticed the no trespassing signs on the Lord's forest. But you're dodging the question."

"What plan?" Kim asked.

"His great plan is that If I work hard, I can become Commandant of the Corps, and then as big chief, bust myself back down to captain." She grinned, "I have to admit, if I could do it and keep his pay…" Tara's eyes twinkled, "But enough about me—what about you? I knew you were getting out pretty soon, but we got caught up, in well, it's not important."

Kim didn't need to read minds to realize in this case, "Not important" really meant "Can't talk about' and she didn't ask.

"I'm getting settled in."

"With Ron?"

"I…have an apartment." Kim said. Tara blinked and nodded.

"He tried to run you over, didn't he."

"He-how do you know?"

"Ronnie's gotten used to getting his own way." Tara paused, "Not really the place to talk about it in detail, but lets just say, anyone who can face down a two star, on his own turf, is someone who is quite capable of forgetting that he doesn't _always_ get his own way." Kim looked at her, and the gold insignia again She hadn't had to worry about this since before she went to jail, but as a captain or Major Tara might be handling hundreds of men, and would be expected to know enough about them to make them effective. Not only that, but Kim could read the insignia on her chest. Silver star, Bronze Star with V for valor, and… she blinked, a _Navy Cross?_ Tara tracked her gaze.

"Don't worry about this—we had to do a little tour with some civilian's and they wanted us gussied up."

"A Navy Cross?" Kim said, "How- I mean if." There was one award higher, and that was the Congressional Medal of Honor.

"Dog fight." Tara said, "China and the US got into a… well little disagreement, we were all flying around each other better than a hundred planes in the air, someone lit off a missile and the next thing I know we're in the biggest dogfight I've ever seen. My baby got pretty chewed up but I gave better than I got and pulled a pair of Chinese fighters off one of my wingmen, so they decided I deserved this."

"More than that," Taggert said, "Shot down three confirmed, with one probable—that gave her more kills than anyone since Iraq." Tara shrugged.

"They didn't have the best equipment, and they were way behind on their C3I—but good pilots. Like I said, they chewed baby up."

"I… What happened after that?" Kim asked fascinated. Nobody had told her about a war with China.

"Everyone gets together, and suddenly it becomes an "unfortunate misunderstanding." Tara said, "Borders are tight enough without adding a war to the mix. We pulled a carrier out of the Pacific, and China publicly said they have no intention of resolving the Taiwan issue with violence. Everybody goes back to square one and breathes easier."

"Wow." Kim said. "I…I'm sorry, it's just that I still think of Wannaweep and cheerleading when I think about all of us—not dogfights."

"you weren't the only one." Taggert said, "Tara here nearly ended her marine corps career early over the big green guy." Tara glared at him.

"I don't understand." Kim said.

"You really never get tired of that story." Tara said.

"Nor does anyone else." Taggert replied, "I consider it my patriotic duty to insure that it is never forgotten.'

"hmph."

"Gil?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, Gil." Tara said, and shot Taggert a look that boded ill.

_Why-oh._Gil had started the chain of events that had put her in jail.

"It's okay." Kim said.

"Well… I joined the corps right after high school—didn't have good enough grades to get into a _good_ school…and I've always wanted a challenge. So we're doing maneuvers in this forest—this deep, dark forest that looks _just_ like Wannaweep."

"And?"

"And I'm sent down, in the dark, to the regimental CP—a mile away. It's simulated combat conditions, so no lights, and even if every sound does make me think Gill's sneaking up on me." Tara paused, "'I'm afraid of the scary boogie man', doesn't usually cut it with your DI."

Tara paused and blushed, "So I'm walking down and realize that even if I don't have any bullets for my M16, I do have a nice sharp bayonet, so I put it on the gun….half way down, I hear a sound and no that Gill made his appearance, I turn around and give an approved Scream and nearly eviscerate…" she sighed, "My DI. It was _not_ a fun walk to the Regimental Commander."

"Did you get in trouble?" Kim asked.

"Do you know how many tiles there are in a latrine? I do. There are a lot." Tara laughed, ruefully, "On the other hand, when I finally saw my personel jacket, I found out that the DI had written 'demonstrates the type of aggression and initiative desired in a Marine' in it, so things didn't go too badly." She grinned, "So, are you here to see your dad?"

"Yeah. Are you going back there?"

"Yep, my free time is just about over, and so is his." She smiled, "I'll walk you o-is your mom there?" At that, Tara looked a little uncertain.

"No..why?"

"Mmm… last long conversation we had ended with me punching her in the solar plexus, slinging her over my back and tossing her into a plane like a sack of potatoes."

"_Mom?_" Kim asked.

"She never told you? I'll let her—I've told my one embaressing story for the day. It's her turn. Ready?"

"Um, I have to call my parole officer, just give me a minute." Kim called up Rabbi Katz and explained what was happening. He looked apologetic.

"Kimberly, I can't clear that area for you. It's a military installation now, and you're… I'm sorry. Maybe your father could come out?" Kim's face started to burn in embarrassment. Walking around, enjoying the sights, she had forgotten that there were still bars in her life. Invisible, but no less real. Suddenly Tara plucked the phone out of her hand.

"Let me handle this. Hi Rabbi."

"Hello, Tara." Rabbi Katz said.

"Try this on your computer." Tara had her own phone out, a considerably more advanced model then Kim's. "This is Major Tara King, USMC ID number 38473-11." The machine paused, and she held it up to her eye, letting a flicker of laser light go over her pupil, and the machine beeped approvingly. "Clear Kim Possible, for civilian access to the Middleton Space Center. My authority for Civilian Access, with escort." She paused, "You're not planning on stealing any state secrets are you?" Kim shook her head. Tara winked, and spoke to Katz again.

"How is it now, Rabbi?"

"It's clear, Major." Rabbi Katz said. "Um, you do realize that you'll have to log her into the space centers security network? It's an isolated system."

"Don't worry—I'll clear her going in and then her dad can check her out later."

"Very good."

"I'm sorry to be a problem." Kim said, feeling a bit out of her depth. Neither Katz nor Tara looked at all put out.

"It isn't any problem at all, Kimberly, it's just that I didn't have authority to clear you for a military secured zone."

"And if you don't remind these machines who is boss now and then, they get uppity." Tara said, happily. "Ready? Let's go see your dad."

TBC.


	22. Confrontation

Confrontation

* * *

At first glance, the Space center looked the same. Kim realized first glances could be deceiving. Instead of a fence, there was a low berm, topped with a fence. The driveway into the parking lot had three doglegs, requiring drivers to slowly negotiate it, where they were stopped and checked by a sentry—and behind the sentry were MP's. Out in the field, between the launch sites were low, pyramidal structures.

"What are those?"

"phased array radars." Tara said, pointing at some other structures, "for the missiles and railguns."

"For the space center?" Tara grinned, but the humor didn't reach her eyes.

"Not just a center, anymore, Kim—it's one of the official Alternate Command Sites for the Continuity of Government action plan. If the POTUS has to make his home here, we want to make certain we can protect him."

"So that's why…"

"Oh, nah, it's just that the system is hard separated from Civilian systems." Tara giggled, "Blame your friend Wade. After he cracked the fifth "Unbeatable" system, they gave up and agreed that the only safe system is one that isn't accessible. It's only the security system, though, not the science systems."

"Oh, so the presi-"

"Not here—believe me, if he was, no way would little old me be able to make a security decision."

Once inside, Tara checked Kim into the computer, and handed her a bracelet, taking one for herself. _Then_ they verified that they were who they said they were, this time to an unsmiling MP.

"Why the bracelet?" Kim asked "I'm chipped as a part of my parole."

"But the systems in here don't know you and no secure installation likes to trust what someone else says." Tara said, "Besides you only have the bracelet while you're in here, and you have to give it back when you leave—and believe me, if one comes up missing at the end of the day, it's _not_ ignored." She shrugged, "Cuts down on the time any bright spark might have for some hacking."

Kim shivered, looking around. Manuals for handling bombings at a preschool, railguns and missiles at her dad's work, berms, doglegs, marines with rifles in battledress. It was like some strange movie, and the strangest part of all was how normal people seemed to be, like it was just an ordinary day.

* * *

On the way to the office, Tara got called away for something by an earnest young corporal who had some paperwork that _had to be signed right now Ma'am!_

"You're clear here, Kim, just go down the corridor, and I'll meet you in a second." She said, glancing at the tags on the folder. Kim glanced and saw that they all had red security notices on them. Tara probably couldn't open them with her here.

"Okay, thanks!" Kim said, and as Tara and Taggert ducked into a room, the corporal in tow, she headed up to dads room. It looked almost normal here. Office doors, the typical safety placards ranging from the mundane to the esoteric. It was…

"What are _you_ doing here?" The voice behind her barked and brought Kim up short.

"I-sorry?" She asked as she turned and found herself staring at a very angry marine. "What idiot gave you clearance?" He said. Kim's brain stuttered to a halt.

"My dad, Dr. Possible, I'm-"

"I know who you are, and that wasn't what I asked." He said. "I know this place isn't cleared for… convicts. Making another exception for yourself I bet."

_That's unfair!_ Kim's mind said, but ten years of ingrained habits were flooding back. Don't talk up, don't make eye contact, keep your eyes on the ground and your hands in front of you, in the guards sight, fingers interlaced. She started to tremble.

"What's—_Kimmiecub?_" her fathers voice. Could this get any worse? She started burning with humiliation again, actually felt her body begin to tremble. She wanted to throw up or run off and hide.

"Security issue sir, please return to your office."

"Security issue my ass! That's _my_ child and she has a bracelet which meant that she was let in the front door." _Now_ a few more doors were opening, brought by her fathers loud voice. Kim was well on her way to hoping that she might spontaneously combust or sink into the ground.

"Sir, you need to go-"

"I'll leave, I can wait for you outside, dad." Kim said, trying to fight to keep her voice steady.

"You're not going anywhere but the security post-"

"_Horseshit!_" Kim started at that. She'd never heard her dad use vulgarity like that.

"I-"

"There appears to be a little misunderstanding here." A calm voice cut through everyone's talk and silence fell in the corridor. The three turned and there was Tara and Taggert. Kim didn't even think about saying anything.

_How did she do that?_ The voice sounded just like it had outside, but there was something about it. Tara's eyes flicked from Kim, to her father, to the Marine Lieutenant.

"I know it's a misunderstanding, since _I_ gave her clearance." She paused, "Hi Dr. Possible."

"Tara." Kim's father said, his voice just a little cool.

"I just figured I'd drop Kim off. Sorry about this little misunderstanding. Can you sign her out?"

"Yes, certainly." Kim's father said, in a slightly changed tone. Tara nodded, and turned to Kim.

"Sorry I can't stay and chat, but that paper work I mentioned? It just grew teeth, and not only that, it also needs Lieutenant Carnes signature. I'll see if I can poke my head in later. James—sorry, you know how it is."

"Ah yes—I have some new waifs to introduce to the joys of cross-service operations, in any case." Taggert said. Tara grinned, and waved at Kim.

"Keep in touch, Kim—I'll call a little later."

"Thanks!" Kim said, feeling herself calm down just a little, although it was still a struggle to look her in the face. With that, Tara, Taggert and Carnes left, Taggert heading to his unit, and Tara walking off, the Lieutenant in tow. Kim looked over at her father.

"Sorry Dad."

"It's okay, Kimberly." He said. Kim looked a little confused.

"I thought Tara had more free time."

"Oh, she probably did, but…" He got a small smile on his face.

"What?"

"Custom. You _never _tear a stripe off a subordinate where people who aren't in the family can see. I'd never do it to one of my people where a Marine could see, and I think she's returning the favor. Some things you keep in the family." He gestured into the office. "Come on inside, Kimberly… Let's talk."

TBC.


	23. Confrontation II

Confrontation II

* * *

Dad's office/lab looked about the same as it had when she'd last been there. There were more advanced equipment, holographic monitors, and other such stuff, but it still gave off the same mad scientist style vibe that Kim had alternately loved and feared, depending on whether or not it was safely in custody or handed out to the tweebs. 

"So, how are you doing, Kimmie?" James asked, tacitly dropping the event in the corridor, Kim noticed, thankfully.

"Better, Dad." Kim said, "I start work on Monday, and the apartment is nice." She shrugged, "I've already met some people from well, before. Tara and Shego."

"Shiela?" James nodded, "Drew has been here on occasion—he's erratic, but sometimes he comes up with the most marvelous things." He looked at her closely. "Your mother told me about the new job." He paused, "Is it…what you want? I could get you-"

"It's fine, Dad." Kim said, "And…where would I work here?" She paused, "How could I work in this place? I'm a felon."

"Well, ah, I found out you couldn't work here, not precisely, but there…" James trailed off.

"Don't worry about it, Dad." Kim said, "Besides, I've always liked to help people and I think they need help at the day care—maybe they'll have someone like me as a kid there." Her father put on a (not entirely feigned) shudder at that image.

"That's good." He said, "I-I'm happy that you are here, with us, but there was so much you wanted to do, that has been…well…"

"Ended by what I did?" Kim softly said. "I'd do it again, Daddy. You know why."

"I do, but that still doesn't make me any happier about the price you paid."

"I'm not the only one who paid a price." Kim said. "And I wonder about this place."

"M?"

"Everyone is…" Kim paused, waved her hands, "So okay with being _watched_ all the time. Mom wasn't thrilled with it, but back when I was here, she'd have gone ballistic over it… everyone else just looks at it and shrugs."

"I can help you there, Kimmiecub." Her father said looking over at his data screen.

"And tell me why people aren't more upset?"

"Yes."

"And you, Dad?"

"I'm…" He steepled his hands, and Kim was surprised. Her dad had never been this deliberate, back in the day.

_Ten years ago, to be precise._

"Kimberly… I'm a scientist and a big part of my job is thinking about how things change…and yes, how things have changed. Back in the 18th century, nobody worried about wire fraud or phone tapping—the technology didn't exist. But then it did, and they had to create new laws for that, and yes, those laws reduced our 'private sphere'—even some did when you were out. Remember that you and all your classmates were fingerprinted— someone in the 1950's would have seen that as proof positive that Joseph Stalin was in the White House."

"But this is a lot more than that."

"Yes, but something else has changed." James said and his voice became colder. "In 1950 a man might make a bomb, or a get a gun and kill a dozen or at most a hundred or so people. But the technology, and more importantly the cultural and social precedent wasn't there. Today, there are biological and chemical weapons that can come close to depopulating a city—we've seen them used on our own nation, not even a decade ago. Nukes, advanced binary explosives, nanotech based compounds, they all have moved from the realm of fiction to reality, and even worse, no matter how hard the government tries, I bet you could dig up information on how to make at least a few with easily accessible materials on the internet in a few hours."

"But just because there's a potential danger, that shouldn't give people the right to-"

"To monitor people the way you monitored Ronald, for his own good?"

"I-" Kim shut up and reddened. Then she continued, "but it's not like that, it's the government-"

"A government that has checks and balances, and three eoequal branches watching each other?" Looking at Kim's face, her father chuckled. "Kimmiecub, I'm not being deliberately difficult—but…" he paused, and got a look of concentration on his face, "Believe it or not, when this stuff started coming along, I wasn't as scared about the government as the private sector." He gestured at the computer, "Before, even if they could track you, it wouldn't be doable—you'd need to many people watching. But with computers with near AI systems, that ended, and there were companies offering to track your spouse, to track your children, to track your employees." He frowned, "One company offered a system that could monitor what your teen was saying where she was, and insure that she didn't associate with bad sorts. The investors behind it were pretty clear that "bad sorts" mean "non-white sorts". You haven't been out long enough to see, but there have been a _lot_ of cases regarding that, and in some respects we have more privacy now then we did—at least in terms of our private lives, and especially from other private individuals."

"But what if the government wants to abuse their power?" Her father nodded.

"There is that danger—there will always be that danger, although I have to tell you I think it will come more from well meaning individuals rather than mustache twirling would be tyrants. But Kimberly, one thing I do know is that technology always gets used. This surveillance technology exists, and someone will use it, and I honestly prefer that it be used by those who can be voted out."

"If we can."

"Don't get too cynical—our government isn't ideal, far from it, but it is responsive if it irritates too many people." He sighed, "And I think another thing you're seeing is the fact that well." He took her hand in his own. "Kimberly, I want you to understand. What you went through was horrible. It doesn't matter if it was merited, or not, it was horrible."

"It was no…" Kim couldn't finish her former trademark phrase.

"Kimberly, the warden and some of the guards stayed in contact with us, and I know…at least as much as I can, how terrible it was for you. If I could have-" Her father's voice had gotten unsteady and he fell silent before continuing. "In any case, while you were in prison…we…we've been at war. Not a war in some foreign land, but a war that is being fought all over the world, including here, and we have the scars to show it." James shrugged, "You see that all over—military forces in every police station, emergency drills, and the feeling that yes, there are people out there who want to kill us. That fosters… something of a likeminded attitude. Just like World War II did, this war is, and it's a bit worse because for every group defeated, another one arises."

"So what will things be like in 20 years?" Kim said, softly. "When nobody remembers a time when we _weren't_ being watched all the time."

"I don't know Kimberly." James looked at his daughter, seeing the way she sat, controlled. He had noticed how she had responded to the marine, and that had fostered is fury. Kimberly had once been unafraid of anyone—respectful yes, but unafraid. To see her hunching into herself, waiting for someone else to decide what she was going to… he shook his head. "But one thing I do know—twenty years ago, I never would have dreamed of this—when I was a child, people talked, _every day_ about how there would probably be the war, the Final War, between the US and Russia, before the turn of the century. They never dreamed that the Berlin Wall would fall, peacefully, or that the Warsaw pact would never come storming across Europe. They didn't dream of this, either, but don't become too pessimistic—not all futures are bad."

"Well, that's true." Kim said, surprising herself with a laugh. "Most of the futures I envisioned when I heard the Tweebs were in college didn't occur." her father laughed with her and then spoke again.

"And you and Ronald?"

"We're…" Kim paused, and thought. "giving ourselves a little space." She paused, "I… Dad, I sort of need to find out who I am, no, that sounds stupid." She said in frustration, "I know who I am, not just how I fit in, anymore."

"You'll discover what you want to do and do it." James said quietly, with certainity. "That's what you have done all your life."

"Well except for one time." Kim said.

"No. Even then. You said you would save Ron, no matter the cost. You saw what could save him, did it…and then paid the price, willingly." James quietly looked at her, "Kimberly, a lot of people are willing to die for those they love—and in some respects, especially if you're young, some bright flash followed by visions of people mourning you and saying what a hero you were…" He looked at her, "That's easy, at least for some. But to save someone, at the cost of being aprt from them, at the cost of waking up in a small room that is your cell for ten, fifteen, or it might have been as long as twenty years…that's a lot rarer. You are, and you have always been, someone I've been proud to name my daughter, and I have no doubt, whatever you do, you'll continue to be."

Now Kim found her throat tight for reasons that had nothing to do with shame or fear.

* * *

Tara waited until the door was closed between her and the Lieutenant. She paused, not saying anything for a moment, and noted that he had come to a posture of attention.

_Oh, so you've realized you've pissed a major off. Smart Boy._

"While concern for security is a good thing." Tara said evenly, "There are things that you could have done better. Had you checked with your data pad, you would have seen that Kimberly Ann Possible had been cleared by my direct order. Then you would have noticed that as with any security clearance, it had gone to Colonel Davidian's office, where he, or his authorized deputy would have had to approve my order—which they did within ten seconds of receiving it." She paused, and let that sink in, "If you had concerns, you could have messaged me, or put in a call for me or the Colonel—and _not_ engaged in a confrontation in a corridor, in front of a dozen civilians, which now have the image of a Commissioned officer of the United States Marine Corps bullying a civilian." She let a chill enter her voice, "I trust that there will be no repetition of that incident, Lieutenant."

"No Ma'am." He paused, and looked at her, and then continued, "Permission to speak freely?"

_Well, that's interesting. _ He was either clueless, or felt strongly enough about it that he didn't care that she might one day be on his promotion board.

"Granted." Tara said.

"She is a traitor, ma'am, and right now she's walking around a sensitive location. She has already assisted in helping an enemy of the United States escape, assaulted both police and military officials and only by the Grace of God did she not cost us even more. If she hadn't been some photogenic "teen hero" we wouldn't have thrown the key away, we would have melted it down."

Tara didn't say anything for a moment. She had heard comments like that, and had noticed that most of them had come from men about the age of this marine—men who had joined the corps in the last few years, who probably had been in high school during the attacks on the United States.

_Yeah, living in a state of never ending war gives you a pretty binary look at things. Us or them, and Kim helped the "them" side._

"She broke the law, certainly, but I want you to consider a few things. First of all, she wasn't some "teen hero" because she had a good complexion. She no shit helped save big chunks of the US before she had her meltdown. In the case of the Diablo's who knows that would have happened if she hadn't deactivated them. You know just what a bitch urban combat operations are and the Diablo's were _only_ in the Urban areas."

Tara nodded down at his insignia before continuing. "You were at Kashmir 1 right."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Cut off or relief."

"Relief." Tara paused.

"You lost 16 Marines, to get four—and three of them were bodies. Why?"

"Ma'am?

"Terrorists were dug in, had good fields of fire. It would have made a lot more sense just to hit the place from the air. Why not? You lost a sixteen to one ratio—sixteen dead to get one back." Now he was glaring at her, and there wasn't any politness in his response.

"We do not leave our people behind, _Major."_ He bit his response out at her.

"Right. Because we're a team." Tara sighed, "Look, and you can take this how you like it, but Kim and Ron weren't just hero's, they were some of the biggest patsies in the history of the world. No back up, no support—as far as the Powers that Be were concerned, they were civilians—if something had gone bad, I'm certain people would have been very unhappy at the fact that Kimberly was learning new and interesting ways to avoid rape in some thirdworld hell hole, or that Ron had been beheaded…but I doubt anyone would have gone to the mat for them. Hell, part of the reason for "freelance" teams is how easy it is to wash your hands of them."

"So when Ron gets vaped, that's it—he's being helped by Kim's mom, by a lot of doctors, but there aren't any gang of pissed off marines looking for payback. And there are limits to what the government is going to do." She tapped her insignia. "So what do you do? Kim and Ron were as close of any bunch of Recon Force marines I've ever seen. So what do you do, Lieutenant? Tell your comrade that "hey sorry about that dude"… or make certain you don't leave him behind, no matter how screwed up he is. No matter what it takes."

"I…I see Ma'am." The marine said, and it sounded like he might see—even if not fully agree. Tara nodded, and turned to go.

"Remember, Carnes. She wasn't 18 when this happened. No command school, no lessons in what to do when it all fell apart on her. She committed the crime, and she's done her time—you won't find me saying she should have been let go. But then, she didn't say that either. I don't know what she'll do with her life now, but I do know we're a damned sight better off with her out here contributing, rather then locked up." She finished as she walked out the door. Tara sighed. She'd like to go see Kim, but she hadn't been lying. She _did_ have paperwork waiting for her. Too much paperwork.

TBC.


	24. Together, Again

Together, Again.

* * *

Kim had talked with her dad until it was time to get back to the apartment—and he drove her. Dad had no restricted zones or times, of course.

"Do you want to…eat dinner at our place, Kimmie?" Kim thought and then shook her head with real regret.

"You'd have to drive me back dad, and well… it's been a pretty long day." Kim said, feeling the oddity of being tired after what most people might have seen as a leisurely day of walking around.

"I understand, Kimimecub." Her father said and swept her up into a bear hug. Kim didn't resist—when she was a teen, this would have been seen as a horrible embaressment…but now, it was just another way to reminder her that this world was real, not some dream. "I love you."

"Love you too, daddy." Kim said.

Later, after he was gone, Kim was sitting, reading a book. Well actually a virtual book on a data tablet. She hadn't realized but the apartments "cable services" also included a data feed to the library. The window was open, with the sounds of the neighborhood coming in, the sighing of the wind and the scent of the grass outside, not the dry air coming through multiple filters.

"I wonder-" Kim paused. She hadn't seen so many of her high school friends—scattered across the nation now, probably. She wondered if they wre all like Bonnie, different from what she had remembered. Certainly _Tara_ had been… Kim smiled at the incongruity of the images from the past and the present.

There was a knock at the door. Kim blinked and got up to answer it. When she opened the door, there was Ron, holding some flowers. Kim stood still for a moment.

"I-" She started and fell silent.

"Hey KP." Ron said. "I'm… well I'm not here to try and convince you of anything." He sighed. "I kinda… sometimes well I get used to having to get things working right, and I forget that it's not always my call." He paused. "Can I um… come in?"

Kim spun around and faced away from him, then looked back at him, face working silently, tears in her eyes. Ron blinked.

"Kim… I guess I'll just go-"

"NO!" The words were strong. "It's…it's not that Ron. It's… you're the first."

"First?" Ron said, completely confused.

"When I was in high school, mom and dad could come into my room—whenever they wanted, because it was their house…then… then I was in supermax. People could watch me, whenever they wanted to." She laughed, "My toilet even—although I bet not many people like that image. When they wanted to come in, they told me, and I stood at the center of the room, and they came in. Or they took me to exercise, and went into the cell then. It wasn't mine… nothing was."

"I-" Ron fell silent.

"Even when we were meeting, everything was recorded and listened to. I never even got the real notes from home—they always copied them onto special paper for me." Kim sad voice now soft and sad.

"I wish…" Ron said, but now Kim's voice had a different tone to it.

"And so, now, I have an apartment. I just realized, because you helped me to by asking that little question, that it's _mine_, that I can say, "come in" or "No, not right now." Or even "no, because I'm in a pissy mood and I want my privacy." " She took a shuddering breath. "It's… so right that you were the one to ask that." She looked at him, eyes shining, "So come in, Ron Stoppable." Ron nodded, and came in and then suddenly Kim was holding onto him hugging him for all she was worth.

They somehow (without disengaging the hug) ended up on the couch, the flowers in a vase. Kim looked at ron and then grinned.

"Your picture's out of date. Tara's a major now." Ron chuckled.

"So they finally carried through on their threat."

"She wasn't happy about it."

"I'll bet. She used to talk about 'them'" Ron said, "The officers that sat on their duffs all day. Now, she's having to face the fact that she's turning into..." He waggled his eyebrows ominously, "Them." Kim laughed at that. _This_ was closer to the Ron she remembered. They sat companionably on the couch, leaning against each other.

_Mom and Yori were so right it's not funny._ Kim thought. Staying here, in her own place, gave her a certainty under her feet that she had never had before—not in her entire life and certainly not in the last ten years. But still..

"So. What do we do?" Kim asked. Ron looked at her and spoke, with undeniable reluctance, but without rancor.

"I've set up, with Yori's help, a training regime." He shrugged, "You're right Kim, I _didn't_ have the right to forbid you." He paused, "If it's what you want."

Now it was Kim's turn to think.

"I don't know…" She said softly. "Ron, this world… there are some parts of it that I like, and some parts that make me want to hide. What's the rest of it like?"

"Outside the United States?" Kim nodded. Ron leaned back. "People don't get out as much any more—you've have a lot more virtual and VR tours and honestly people don't want to end up #1 on a machine gun spree hit parade, and every nation is careful about who they let in. I don't know the exact numbers, but tourism's been going down every year." He looked over at his watch, "And of course all this money for defense has to come from somewhere—the foreign aide budget has been slashed to the bone."

"But the Mexican Miracle, Shego told me about…" Kim started, Ron grinned, looking at her.

"So how is Shego doing?" He asked.

"Pretty good—especially since you visit her."

"Yeah, well the kids are nice." Ron said, "Jessica's smart as a whip—probably gonna be a president some day." Kim watched him brighten up as he thought of Shego's kids. He shook himself and she watched as his good mood dampened.

"Mexico's a bit of an unusual case, Kim—they're so close to the US, it was easy to sell the idea that we couldn't leave them out of our defense cordon—and _their_ southern border is a lot easier to secure than ours." He sighed, "A lot of other nations aren't as lucky—I bet Shego told you about my great plan for diversifying."

"Yeah."

"A lot of it is making a virtue out of necessity—the customs and border guard barriers are so high here you couldn't make a profit—so I have to put the factories out side if I want to do much trading in the developing world. Crop lines too—it's getting harder to break even on them, and I expect there will be more tariff bills coming."

"What about Europe?"

"Same thing, a bit more ugly in places." He said shortly.

"So we're walling ourselves off?" Ron nodded.

"Slowly, but the trend's there. Back after Iraq started going poorly, you got a lot of people saying 'why get involved', and it's gotten stronger. If we can build up our defenses, we don't need to worry about what is going on in other places."

"But Mom was with an NGO, she wrote me about it."

"Oh, they still exist, but they're just… band aids." Ron said.

"That's…"

"Not what I wish." Ron said, "You can wall yourself off, but that doesn't change the fact that education, good food and water shouldn't be a privilege, it should be a _right_." Ron's voice became firmer. "So I do what I can." He laughed shortly, "and make a ton of money at it, but we'll see how long that continues—someday, if things break wrong, I might be asking for crash space on your couch."

"You don't need the couch, Ron." Kim said softly, feeling her heart start to flutter. This was something she'd thought about, dreamed about in Prison, dreamed until it hurt so bad, that she'd wake up weeping. Then for a while she'd stopped dreaming about it. It would never happen, so she needed to stop tormenting herself.

Now… _What if he says no? What if all of this is just him helping out a friend?_ Yori had said no, but what if she was wrong. Kim didn't know if she could endure having the possibility taken away again, beyond all hope of recovery.

"I mean, if…" She said, as she stood up and pulled Ron to his feet. The two stood together, looking at each other. "…if you want…"

"More than anything, Kimberly Ann." Ron said, quietly. His hands were on her shoulders. "More than anything." Kim moved into him, putting her hands behind his back, encircling him, feeling his defined muscles.

"Me too, Ron." Kim said softly, and then they kissed.

After that point, there was no more need for words.

* * *

Kim woke up slowly, looking at the clock by the side of the room. It was 5:00…just before the city started waking up in earnest. The sky was still dark outside the window, and off in the distance, a dog barked. The night light kept the room in half light. Kim had never liked sleeping in complete darkness—her room was always in half light from the city lights, and the prison never was completely dark, only dimmed… and here a strip of electro-luminescent material provided a dim diffuse light. But it was good enough to see.

_Well, I'm no longer the oldest virgin in middleton._ Kim thought to herself. She guessed the high school stories were true, it had been incredible. Or maybe the fact that it was her first time and Ron was…considerably more experienced.

Or maybe the fact he loved her. Whatever their differences, and Kim knew they remained, he loved her still, with the same fierce unconditional love that she had realized lurked beneath his goofy exterior. It had been burnished now, with the will and determination that she had only begun to realize that he possessed in full flower.

Then she looked down at him and hissed slightly, brushing a hand over his blonde hair. The will that had cost him.

Some people grew ten years younger when they slept. Ron had grown ten years older. Lines that he kept from his face when awake were not apparent. Exhaustion and tension showed on his body. He had warned her that he'd sleep deeply tonight, but Kim saw no relaxation in his pose.

_So I do what I can…_ Kim thought about that. What the others had said. They were concerned about Ron, true, but she remembered what Shego had said about how rich he was. It was concern for someone who you saw as in control. Confident, powerful, maybe possibly going the wrong way, but still…

_I might be asking for crash space on your couch._ Kim felt a trembling seize her. He knew, or believed, she suddenly thought, that everything he was doing might fail. That's why he spent so much time working on it. _That_ was why he didn't focus on the positive like some thought he should, why he was becoming more driven…older. She rested her hand lightly on his head, moved it down to his chest, feeling the strong, slow beat of his heart.

And yet…yet if he thought that… and did not simply decide to make money, to enjoy his wealth, but to continue hurling himself against what seemed like an unstoppable tide… To wake up with the fear that everything he was doing might be vain, and yet go and _keep doing it._ Because it was right. Even if the entire world called him a fool, it was the right thing to do.

She bit her lip at that, not wanting to risk waking him. Kim didn't know if she could even have come close to this. She loved helping people and she'd never been _afraid_ not at least in that way. Ron had. Ron had been a catalogue of paranoid fears, from bugs (small) to a summer camp. Maybe that had been what had prepared him for this. The little fears conquered, preparing him for the great fear. Kim might have laughed at that once, but 10 years in prison had cured her of that, the memories of the time when the fears rose into terrible specters, mightier than any human could be, to beat her into a quivering lump curled up in the corner of her cell. And yet he had born up under them.

But how long could he keep it up? He was just a man, and men had limits, however great.

But maybe that was her reason. Ron had supported her, walked with her, and when she couldn't have carried herself, lent her the arm she needed to stand. Maybe this time she could return the favor. Lend him the arm _he_ needed.

"But only if you'll let me." Kim said to him softly. Then she smiled. He would. Fine. The team might not look like it had in the days of old, hell she didn't have the faintest clue _what_ it would be like… But they were back together now. More than ever.

And for now, that was all that mattered. She leaned next to him and put her arm out over his chest, comforting and protective.

That was all that mattered.

* * *

TBC.


	25. Part I: Epilogue

_Epilogue: _

* * *

_"We want them looking in the wrong direction." A voice said. "Can you do it?"_

_"Of course."__ There were no names, no faces. Just a conference call, sent through a dozen cut outs, using the most advanced encryption. Anyone listening to the call might not even realize there was a conversation going on other than a family talking about their children. _

_"How long?"_

_"Give me a few weeks to make ready." The second voice paused, "The targets are pretty obvious—the Americans are so painfully predictable."_

_"Predictable…but powerful."_

_"Ah, you have never studied martial arts."_

_"No. I have better things to do."_

_"That much is obvious. Weight and strength are important…if you know how to use them. If you don't, and your opponent does…they are only tools he can use to destroy you. The American's strength will not help them here. Quite the contrary. It will help destroy them."_

_"Very well."_

_"But first…my payment?"_

_"It will be deposited in your accounts… the other… may be difficult."_

_"It will not. All you have to do is provide the right information, and he will come, with his slut in tow. I will have them, and I will kill him…_after_ he sees every plan he has made, every hope, come to ruin."_

_"As long as it doesn't impact the over all mission, do as you please." _

_"Oh, I intend to do just that."_

* * *

_End Part I. _


End file.
